


If It Walks Like A Duck

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Clubbing, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mild Language, Not Canon Compliant, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Writer Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-10-31 14:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 32,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17851307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: Alec found his twenty-first word in Magnus Bane, and all the others inside of himself. He published a little tragedy, despite his fear, with a lot of gay subtext that wasn’t subtle at all. His fifth short story made it on the shelves, and then on a large list full of shining names, and Alec held his breath and waited, because if stories had taught him anything, it was that this was the moment where the other shoe dropped.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: I'm not sure how to tag this. This does deal with someone being kicked out of their home after coming out as gay. There are also references to suicidal thoughts, or at the very least past suicidal thoughts, so I put that tag there. This is very much a story about healing, though, so even though it deals with some heavy tuff, there's no self-harm, actual suicide, or present-day homophobia, and it's not graphic or anything like that. Healing!!! But stay safe anyway, and message me if you want more details please!
> 
> GOOD STUFF: Thanks so much to CryptidBane for sorting this whole thing out and being lovely. I have LOVED reading all of fics leading up to 3B and I can't wait to see the new season. Gonna be epic. Thanks!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec pictured colourful fridge magnets in his mind. The clunky letters spelled out _it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! <3

Alec wrote four short stories that got little to no love in the world, and then one that sparked something. It was a labour, writing, but he wouldn’t call it a labour of love, since he spent most of the time scoffing and cursing at his own secret collection of words. 

He sat on the train and wrote snippets of a story of two men, or perhaps a dozen, all in love with each other and various aspects of the world, and then scrapped it in a fit of embarrassment when his handsome seat partner turned out to be the inspiration. He went to coffee shops to get a taste of the pretentious atmosphere that sparked many a great coming-of-age novels and found nothing in the plain wall art or overpriced, floral foam. He sat at his bedroom window and wrote about the rain that kept him up at night and the thoughts that accompanied each drop, and the result was depressing enough that he deleted it and went to bed. He took a cab to the park to be one with nature and admired a duck for half an hour, pen and paper abandoned, just so he could tell his brother that they got on famously. 

He wrote maybe ten or twenty words. Ten or twenty words was better than nothing, but sadly not enough to trample through the slush pile without getting wet feet and a cold. 

Alec was struggling with his twenty-first word when he ran into a man, a few feet down from the store where he bought spices to salvage his burned meals. It was a crossing of two ships in the evening that were likely to see each other very soon, actually, so it wasn’t a great tragedy, really, that Magnus Bane was going one way with bags of shopping and Alec was going the other to meet his sister. But it poked at the dull, bored space in his chest and his inspiration woke up, inspiration that was once described in a dull article by a droning author as something with a long, curious neck and a tongue that wanted to taste the world. Alec didn’t like the description, since it was far too phallic and if he said it aloud, he’d be laughed at by anyone who heard him. But it was annoyingly fitting. 

Magnus Bane continued down the street. Alec knew his name because he was all over the place: Magnus was in print and on the internet and on glaring screens. Alec often heard his laughter in the streets of Brooklyn, a laugh filled with soft spice, connected firmly to a luxurious voice. Magnus was on phone screens that got shoved in Alec’s face every now and again when he was paying very little attention to the conversation, lost in his ten or twenty words. Magnus owned a magazine, and the building where the magazine-printing happened, and Alec had a subscription to the magazine, no idea where the building was, and a fear of starting conversations with men. 

It wasn’t a tragedy: Magnus smiled and gave a little wave as he passed Alec. His hand almost touched Alec’s worn jacket, soft skin brushing black leather, and Alec wanted to call him back and invite him to take it off slowly. That’s—that wasn’t what you said to veritable strangers. If it was, Alec would have more invitations and a bigger bed full of braver men. 

Alec smiled back hastily, and haste didn't always make a smile pretty, but it did the job here. They kept going. It wasn’t a tragedy, but with that long-necked curiosity awake, Alec decided to make it into one. 

Alec found his twenty-first word in Magnus Bane, and all the others inside of himself. He published a little tragedy, despite his fear, with a lot of gay subtext that wasn’t subtle at all. His fifth short story made it on the shelves, and then on a large list full of shining names, and Alec held his breath and waited, because if stories had taught him anything, it was that this was the moment where the other shoe dropped.

***

FOUR AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

The other shoe was an anvil dressed as a sneaker.

Alec took up running. Running was supposed to keep you alive. It helped you stay fit and fast, it kept the blood pumping around your fragile body, and it made it hard to think about anything but the song of your hot breath, and how it looked like clouds of music in the cold air. 

At first, Alec ran rigid loops around the block of apartments he’d moved into a few months ago. He stretched his route each morning, moving farther and farther into the sleeping city, watching the art on the walls turn bright and chalky with each step. Vigilantes came out at night and painted the stone blue, and Alec enjoyed the fruits of their labour in the mornings. He found a fruit stall on the way back to his apartment that sold shiny red apples, and he stopped one morning on a whim.

Alec didn’t do things on a whim. He wasn’t a very whimsical person. If it mattered, then it mattered enough to do something about it. But fleeting, wistful wondering moments were for other people. Flights of fancy were for the fanciful. 

But Alec stopped underneath the loose striped awning and bypassed pears and lemons in favour of the apples that had caught his eye. That was a whim. He dug around for a bit until he found the most mottled one of the bunch. That was a fanciful thing.

“You don't want that one,” the woman behind the stall said briskly. She had her hat tipped low over her impatient expression, and her freckled cheeks had turned pink the longer Alec rummaged around. “What’d you go rooting around for? There was a nice enough lot on top.”

Alex examined the apple again, the puckered, shrunken skin and the way it had been shoved to the bottom of the crate, and he shrugged. “I do want this one, actually.”

The woman eyed him like he was a bit mad, and then harrumphed. “Suit yourself. Don't go telling folks where you got it from, though.”

Alec paid her with the spare change in his pocket and put the apple in the empty space for later. And he did the same thing the next morning, and the next. And then he kept on running.

When he grew bored of the grey, concrete jungle, he moved to a softer park just a few roads away. He still bought an apple every time he went for a run, and always the most ruined one, but this time he bought it on the way back, gleaming with sweat and a pleasing ache in his calves. He jogged to the park every morning in sturdy trainers and ran across the beige paths, winding through the mounds of green. Sometimes he passed other people jogging, lost in their own minds, and he didn't have to speak to them. He waved at the dogs, nodded at the owners, and he stayed silent.

Everything was easier at this time of the day, when the sky was still unfurling its pinks and blues. He watched the sun yawn itself awake every morning. It made it easier to face another evening, knowing there was something so peaceful on the other side of night.

Izzy called him during one such morning. It was early enough that she should have still been asleep, but she wasn’t, and Alec could tell it had been a bad night just from the way she greeted him.

“What’s wrong?” Alec asked, slowing to a stop near a damp bench. They didn't talk as much as he liked, so he didn't know enough about what was going on with her. His heart kept pumping as he pictured sirens and emergency lights. He imagined fire and shouting and every horrible possibility his mind could ensnare in it’s sticky, panicking grasp. He could run to the Institute. It was far, and he was tired, but he could do it. 

Izzy’s voice cascaded down the phone in one long, drawn-out sigh. “It’s nothing big, I suppose. Well it is, but nobody’s hurt, like I know you’re thinking. Relax, Alec.”

Some of the anxiety calmed in Alec’s stomach, but he still moved to the side and waited, warily. Shoes seemed to keep dropping recently, and he wasn’t sure he had enough unmarked skin left to bruise if the next one decided to hit him. 

“It’s Mom and Dad. Alec, I—I don't think I should tell you over the phone.”

Alec sat on the bench. It seemed like the easiest option here, the only option when faced with the pain in Izzy’s voice, and the fact that he couldn’t see her face. Wasn’t really allowed to see her face. But here she was, on the phone, suggesting that they meet anyway. 

“Mom and Dad aren’t going to like that,” Alec said softly. It had never really stopped them from doing anything before, not where the other was concerned, but the world had recently shifted for Alec, and he wasn’t about to upset the very tentative balance he’d found. 

Izzy gave an ugly laugh. “Right now, I don't think they care about anything other than shouting at each other.”

The adrenaline had begun to fade, but he lurched forward on the bench at her words, confused. “What? Why are they shouting at each other? What happened?”

“I _really_ don't want to tell you over the phone.”

“Iz,” Alec said sharply, and then spoke softer when she took a shuddering breath. “Whatever it is, I can handle it. We both can.”

***

Alec sat on the bench, deep in thought. He wasn’t so sure that he could handle this, actually, but it was too late now. The words were already pin-balling around his skull. The truth was already there, embedded in his memory banks, locked up in files that couldn’t be burned or erased.

Robert Lightwood, his dad, was not a man that had much of a presence. He could command a room without trouble, as long as the people inside the room were gathered for a political, greedy, war-making reason. He was a lawyer, a man who had to speak in business-like, cold tones. A man who had to get a room full of dubious people on his side. He was tasked with building cases and defending those that maybe didn't deserve it, or destroying those that did. You weren’t that type of man if you were only one thing—that thing being complacent.

But at home, dad was something of a calm, steady ghost. A ghost that was always there, lingering in the background, arms open to receive a hug without giving anything useful or constructive in return. Alec couldn’t call him absent, but he wouldn’t say he was present, either. Maybe more for Izzy, but not for the rest of them.

Maybe he hadn’t had much of a presence at home because he’d been busy making his presence known in other homes.

“An affair,” Alec said quietly. “Dad’s been having an affair.”

The sky liked the words about as much as Alec did. The clouds that had been gathering at a slow, incremental pace split at their weighed-down seams. Rain dropped down. It smacked Alec with the weight of a thousand high-heeled anvils, urging him up, but he didn't move for another minute or so.

Alec tried to imagine how his mother was feeling, but he recoiled from the mere thought. Maryse was a hard woman to categorise, when it came to feelings and thoughts. Alec didn't even really have a name for her. He said ‘mom’ and thought ‘mother,’ and sometimes it was just Maryse. She didn't darn socks or do yoga or organise healthy lunches for the week ahead. She didn't teach kids maths or languages or karate. She didn't let herself be absent from their lives. She wasn’t so stern that she never showed praise, but homework was for the child, and not the parent. She didn't allow room for mistakes. She didn't let her eldest son live at home if he was determined to be gay. She was very good at chess, and she made a mean stew.

Alec got up off the bench, his legs numb, jogged through the rain on autopilot. His phone was wet, and he put it in his pocket, but that had overturned when he took it out and was wet too, now. There was always that trick with a box of rice if his phone carked it, but Alec didn't know if he had any rice. He hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while.

His mind was in a bit of a daze. 

The woman behind the stall was battling with the covers to keep the rain off her sales, but she chucked the ugly apple at Alec when she saw him approach and yelled something he didn't hear. He crammed his change in the pot beside the crate of soggy pears. 

At home, soaked and tired, Alec put the mottled apple on the kitchen table and stared at it for a moment. It was small and wrinkled, a bit brown where it should have been red, or even yellow. A darker patch on the side looked a bit like a shocked, cracked skull. 

He took a knife and cut it into pieces after a quick shower, and stood there in his suit for work, submerging the slices in a pot of yoghurt. Mixed around, they tasted like vanilla rather than apple. But it was still the apple that he was eating, underneath it all, and that was the important part. Something ruined could still taste exactly like it was supposed to. 

That was another thing that kept him alive.

***

Alec thought of Magnus as he sat in his tiny cubicle at work. There wasn’t much else to do, and even if there had been, Alec probably would have been thinking about Magnus a little bit.

His completed paperwork sat in one pile on his left, next to his pens and stapler, all neatly organised. A single sheet of paper lay in the tray beside the computer keyboard, waiting to be completed, but he needed several signatures before he could continue. Jones wasn’t in this morning to grunt and sign something he’d barely looked at, and Meghan from Accounting downstairs wasn’t speaking to Alec because he didn't want to go on a double-date with the guy she liked and that guy’s decidedly female friend. 

She’d shown him a picture, after she asked. Alec had a feeling he would have said no even if he wasn’t gay. The friend looked _perky._

Bored, Alec twirled a biro around his fingers like a drumstick. It was something that Jace was always doing with actual drumsticks, even though he played the piano and had no idea how to do more than beat the rattle out of a snare. It had only been a few months since Alec had last seen Jace, but he stupidly wondered if he’d outgrown the habit yet.

“Lightwood!” Smithers shouted, as he trotted through the office like a pony with a lost shoe. His uneven gait drew a few amused looks, which he must have taken for admiration because he preened and held his head up importantly at all the looks thrown his way. Alec sighed as he drew near, his wispy beard hanging off his chin like pulled cotton wool. 

“Got a minute?” Smithers winked and perched on the edge of Alec’s desk, his forehead gleaming with a sheen of sweat. “‘Course you have.”

Smithers was the type of person you wanted to smother with his own toupee. His tie was an ugly yellow with an equally ugly food stain blotched at the bottom. He spat when he talked, flecks hitting the nearest victim with pinpoint accuracy, usually in the vicinity of the mouth, and he had an aroma not unlike old cheese and curdled milk. 

Alec thought of the apple he’d dipped in vanilla yogurt, and Magnus with his blue waistcoat, and the morning’s run. It was the only way to get through the next five minutes, because Alec’s glares and deadpan responses made no mark on someone as unaware and self-important as Smithers. 

Alec tuned back in time to hear Smithers bray with laughter. He squinted, but he couldn’t glean the last few minutes of conversation off the companionable look on Smithers’ face. Something about golf, and the trials of having a repulsive personality. 

“Gotta have that little bit to look forward to on the weekend though, don't ‘cha, eh? Even if it is just golf and a bit of a look at the serving women, eh?” Smithers knocked his elbow into Alec’s shoulder with a hearty laugh. His toupee flapped. Alec thought of Magnus, and how he always smelled nicely of jasmine soap, and never of cheese or milk.

“Did you come over here for a reason?” Alec finally gritted out, after a further two minutes of mind-numbing discussion. “Only I’m a little busy.”

Smithers faltered, his eyes dashing briefly to the single sheet of paper in Alec’s in-tray. The screensaver on his computer continued to release bubbles into the virtual ocean. Alec stood his ground, his expression blank.

Smithers rallied, slapping Alec on the shoulder. “‘Course you are, Lightwood. We all are, aren’t we? All trying to get to the top, at the end of the day! Desperately climbing the corporate ladder.” He leaned in close and winked at Alec, his stale breath poking the gag button in Alec’s brain. “Seems like your lucky day, that’s all I’m saying. The boss wants to speak to you.”

Alec jerked in his seat, and glared down at the clock on his desk, ticking away innocently. “You couldn’t have said that ten minutes ago, could you?”

Smithers chortled obliviously as Alec got to his feet and strode past him, snatching up his briefcase on the way.

“Look at him, rushing off on the next big adventure. Already forgetting his roots!” Smithers’ fond, grating chuckle followed Alec out of the office, as did the envious, pitying eyes of his work colleagues, and he found himself sinking into blissful gratitude as the elevator door slid shut, cutting off Smithers’ desperate attempts to relate to the masses.

If the next big adventure wasn’t a one-way ticket to somewhere with absolutely no people like Smithers present, Alec was going to be quite pissed off.

***

In the hallway leading to his front door, Alec stopped next to his neighbours doormat and swore for a bit. It was a very involved swear, filled with lots of creativity and vigour that he couldn’t seem to find the energy for in other parts of his life.

If his neighbour heard, he obviously thought it was safer to stay inside his own flat. 

“Fucking fired,” Alec said, trudging the last few steps to his own door and letting his forehead thunk against the wood. He put his hands in his coat pocket—still damp from the rain that morning—and bypassed his phone in favour of his keys. 

Alec gave the front door a shove with his shoulder until the hinges relinquished their iron grip. Inside, he threw his briefcase down on the counter, which snaked its way into what just about counted for a hallway. It was the smallest apartment in the whole complex, but it was also the cheapest, which made it option-number-one-and-only when Alec had been searching desperately for somewhere to live. 

There weren’t many royalties on a short story that had been out for less than half a year. Sure, it had done well, it had been on lists, people had raved, and Alec had briefly had an agent, of all things, but he hadn’t written anything since. He hadn’t put pen to paper unless it was to scribble a date on a form. And money from books took a while to show itself, if it ever really did, so Alec was stuck with option-number-one-and-only. 

His steps petered out somewhere between the front door oiling closed and the first glimpse of the ragged blinds hanging in his living room. 

“Fired,” Alec said to the dusty view, trying the word out for the first time without an office full of nosy parkers listening in. He’d had to explain to an insistent, overly-cheerful Smithers, when he went back in to get his stuff, exactly why he’d been packing everything inside the cardboard box handed to him by his old boss. “Fired for doing my fucking job.”

He felt tired and grey. The contents of the cardboard box had fit in his briefcase, once he threw out all the paperwork and leaflets that were no longer pertinent. He’d shaken everything inside his briefcase (pens, pencils, a novelty stress-ball that looked like a small cow, a stolen stapler) and folded up the cardboard box. 

It was tempting to throw the box in the trash, or the nearest river, but instead he kept it. Alec didn't know why. He didn't pretend to understand the workings of his depressed mind at the best of times, let alone on a day that could quite fairly be referred to as shit. 

It wasn’t as though he’d wanted the job, but jobs were a thing that you sadly needed if you wanted to continue existing in this world. Up until half an hour ago, Alec had worked for a glossy up-and-coming Insurance Company. It wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he’d lived with two lawyers for most of his life, and it seemed like the thing to do with the qualifications he’d grabbed and scraped for as he slogged through college. 

It wasn’t a dream job. Other people had dreams. Other people wanted to open soup shops and start fashion companies and raise kids. Other people wanted to run businesses and don powdery wigs and rise to stardom. 

Other people wanted to write books. 

Alec didn’t have dreams; like most ordinary people, he had bills that needed paying. 

So he’d taken the job at the Insurance Company. He’d bunged on a suit that just about fit and sat in a sleek waiting room with other hopeful future employees, other ordinary people with bills that needed paying. A woman with a sharp bob-cut and thin glasses had looked down her nose at him, firing question after question until eventually he’d received a cubicle the size of a matchbox and a handful of grudging, automatic nods each morning as he shuffled in. And Smithers, with his cheesy scent and overbearing laugh. And a stapler. 

“Fuck,” Alec said, dropping into the armchair. It was the only seat in the room, barring the two plastic patio chairs he’d gotten cheap at a thrift store. Those were in the kitchen though, and he didn’t feel like walking two steps to get to them. The springs underneath him squeaked and dug into his skin, but he just frowned faintly at the dirt accumulating on the windowsill, sunk too low now to see the view. 

This was the point where he would have talked to Izzy, if he had still been living at home. This was the point where he would have sat on her pink, feathery bed and ranted for a quarter of an hour until he fell asleep there, with his head in her lap. It wasn’t all too long ago that he’d done just that, but his problems had been much smaller then, even though they felt just as large at the time. 

He could call her, but it was still only halfway through the day, and she’d either be at work or in class. This morning she’d told him that their parents were halfway to a divorce because of an affair, and he knew that however he had taken it, Izzy was finding it a thousand times worse to deal with. 

As it was, there wasn’t much to do except to reach around the arm of the chair, fumble for the book that always rested on the rickety table, knock a coaster on the floor, and eventually pick up the book. He flipped through the pages, thumb gliding along the outskirts of each thin piece of paper, feeling the rush of ink and words and worlds unknown pressed against the arch of his fingerprint. 

Anybody that picked up the book and found the notecard marking Alec’s most recent page might not think it that important. Perhaps they might comment on the prettiness of the stark black lines painting the picture on the front, or ponder the message on the back and who could have sent it, but chances are they would move on pretty swiftly. 

For Alexander Lightwood, the notecard was the most important part of his day. So was the apple he bought from the fruit stall every morning that he went running, and the running itself that kept his blood pumping. The magnets on the fridge and the cereal in the cupboard made the list too. So did Magnus and Izzy and Jace, and the mail that arrived through the door each day. They were all the things that kept him here. 

The notecard fell into his lap. Alec left the book on the arm of the chair and picked up the notecard, turning it over. The first side just showed the front of an apartment complex, not unlike the one he lived in. The roof, with all the aerials visible, blocked part of a cloud and a flock of narrow birds. Each window was darkened, the railings unadorned, and the whole thing was cleanly painted in black on white. 

There was absolutely nothing spectacular about it, if you ignored the fact that it had kept Alec alive for a long time. 

The light-bulb in the living room flickered and then went out with a pop. Alec tipped his head back and stared in disbelief at the ceiling, but no amount of incredulity, internal pleading, or external cursing was going to bring the light-bulb back to life. 

“Fuck,” Alec said again, sighing. It was his favourite word today. 

Seized with the need to do something, Alec surged off the armchair, only pausing to put the rickety table back to rights, with everything in its proper place. He cleaned the fridge out, taking everything edible to one portion of the counter to plan meals, or possibly just to eat sadly in one conglomeration later. He put all the suspiciously green, soggy items in the trash to take down tomorrow morning; an overdue, and yet still disgustingly boring task. His hands were red and pruned from scrubbing the insides of the fridge by the time he huffed and reached for his cell-phone, pulling a Kraft single out of its packet and munching it up at the same time.

 _Free?_ Alec typed the question into the little blinking box, watching as it whooshed into the ether. 

The reply came a little later. _For that assumption, Lightwood, you’ll pay double. Surely a night with me is worth more than that?_

Alec snorted, his ears heating up slightly. Another text came through before he had a chance to put together a reply. 

_Is everything okay, sweetheart?_

Magnus was always calling him lovely names. Alec didn't always feel lovely enough to deserve them, but he didn't tell Magnus to stop. 

_Got fired. Need to buy light-bulbs. You in?_

The screen lit up. _Magnus Bane Calling._ Alec didn’t pause before he picked up the call, but he did let himself think that he probably wouldn’t be buying light-bulbs tonight and eating more cheese. Not if Magnus had anything to do with it.

***

“I was doing my job,” Alec said into the cell-phone. He crammed it between his shoulder and his ear while he dug about in the wardrobe, the other hand burdened with hangers and holey jeans. “I was literally doing my job. That’s it. The fucking company stole most of this woman's money and I was fired for helping her file for a complaint that she didn’t know existed.”

Alec had never been fired before. His job delivering newspapers a few neighbourhoods over had stopped when he broke his bike and promptly decided that sixteen was old enough for a different job that didn’t include being chased by dogs or jeered at by passing classmates. The coffee shop he’d worked at during his spare hours as he trudged through college had closed down thanks to a health code inspection and a coffee machine that would’ve made angels weep, so that hadn’t exactly been a firing incident. He’d quit the job at the fishmongers, which he’d only picked up out of desperation, just before he found the ad for the position at the new Insurance Company. 

He’d managed to make it all the way through his life without being fired, up until now, when he sort of desperately needed to keep his job. 

“A complaint that negatively affected the company you worked for,” Magnus said patiently. His voice was a little crackly, since he was bobbing along somewhere on the L-Train where the signal was shit. He never took the subway unless he was coming to see Alec, since Magnus had enough money to buy himself a private jet if he liked and fly himself around, and Alec definitely didn’t. Alec could never decide if he was supposed to be touched or annoyed. 

Alec made an irritable sound. “Yeah, that. It lost them a load of money that shouldn’t have been theirs in the first place.”

“I’m not an expert on the law, but there’s got to be something you can do. They can’t just fire you for no good reason. What are we going to do about it? Do you want me to—?”

“No.” Alec sighed. Magnus was always asking to help, always offering his services, and Alec couldn’t bring himself to accept any of it, not when he had nothing to give back. “I just expected them to give me a chance to explain myself before they threw me out on my ass. That was months wasted doing something I hated anyway. Do you know how much paperwork I had to fill out the whole time I worked there? I could have raised my own forest with that many trees.” Alec threw half the hangers on the bed, where they drooped in a pathetic pile of brown, dark grey and black, and snapped, “Magnus, none of my clothes fit your list of…”

He trailed off, frustrated enough that he couldn’t find the words to explain ‘sex-bomb-esque attire,’ as Magnus had put it. There was no way he was re-using Magnus’s vocabulary. He’d already accidentally said ‘fierce’ two weeks ago to describe a graph to an intern. Granted, Magnus only said it to irritate Alec, and Alec himself had said it sarcastically, but forget the complaint form, _that_ was probably why he was fired. 

“Specifications to accentuate your gorgeousness?” Magnus filled in for him, with a sweetly dangerous tone, when Alec let the silence grow too long. 

“Pedantic, pain in the ass bullet points.”

Magnus sighed. “I’m hanging up until you can learn how to properly appreciate your friends.”

Alec heard the stilted voice of an announcement in the background before Magnus, true to his word, clicked _End Call._ Alec surveyed the mess on his bed, scowling darkly, and then abandoned his quest for a suitable outfit. The notecard replaced his cell-phone as he moved through the living room and into the kitchen, and he pressed his forefinger to the dull edge of the card as he waited for the water to heat up. 

There was a slim chance that Magnus really was angry, or at the very least fed up of listening to Alec complain, so his choices were either making coffee or suffering through a night of very pointed, passive-aggressive comments. 

His cell-phone lit up as he poured boiling water into two clean mugs. He jogged the few feet it took to get to the door and flung it open to find Magnus waiting on the other side, in the process of slipping his thinner, shinier phone into the pockets of his incredibly tight jeans. 

“There’s coffee,” Alec said, softening his voice in an attempt to apologise for earlier. “I just poured it, so it’s still hot enough to burn your tongue.”

“Just how I like it.” Magnus shut the door behind him with a grin. He lifted Alec’s chin with the lightest touch, brushing his thumb briefly against the corner of Alec’s mouth so that he shivered. “I’m sorry about your job, love. They had no right to do that. They don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Alec dredged up a smile for him. “Yeah, well. Something else will come along.”

“My interrupted offer still stands.”

Alec tried not to grimace. He was aware that Magnus would buy Brooklyn and gift it to him with a pretty red bow if he thought Alec would accept it. He just didn't really know what to do with that information, not when there wasn’t much Alec could do in return. 

“Come on, your coffee might cool down if we stand here too long.”

Magnus’s hand fell away, and he breezed past in a cloud of jasmine. It was some kind of soap that could arguably be found sitting on the shelf of an elderly woman’s bathroom, but Magnus made it work. It seeped into Magnus’s skin and turned the air sweet and spicy. No doubt Alec would end up smelling that way too by the end of the night. It was something of a secret thrill, to go to bed after he’d spent time with Magnus and realise they shared the same scent. Countless times he’d pulled his t-shirt up to breathe it in as his hand slipped down and down. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but Magnus didn’t know, and it didn’t hurt anybody, so it was okay. It was okay. 

“Sandwich?” Alec offered, taking one of the plastic seats. Magnus stayed by the stove and sipped at coffee that should’ve burned any mortals’ mouth. He made a sweet, humming sound in his throat, eyes at half-mast, and shook his head. 

“This is just fine.”

“Bad day?” Alec realised the notecard was still on show as he spoke. It sat on the table where he’d dropped it while he made coffee, in plain view of all curious eyes. His heart skipped a step. 

“Not bad, just long.” Magnus closed his eyes and took another devoted sip. 

Alec reached out quickly and dragged the notecard towards him while Magnus made love to his coffee. He tucked it away underneath one of Magnus’s magazines, out of sight, and hoped desperately that he wasn’t in the browsing mood.

“Tell me about it,” Alec offered. 

“Oh, no.” Magnus stood up out of his graceful lean against the counter. His eyes were wide open now, fixed on Alec, his lips pursed. They probably tasted of coffee, and that was an enticing thought that Alec resolutely pushed down even though it was okay, it was okay. Magnus put his mug down and Alec came back to the conversation.

“No?”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this.” Magnus had a glint in his eye that spelled trouble. “We have my pedantic, pain in the ass, bullet-pointed list of specifications to get through this evening.”

Alec opened his mouth to protest, but Magnus planted both hands on the table and leaned in until he was only a breath away, warm and tempting, his eyes sparkling. 

“And then we’re going out, and you’re going to have _fun.”_

“Is that a threat?” Alec tried to sound droll, but his reluctant smile gave him away. His smile was always giving him away around Magnus. Magnus was always around, making him smile. It was a conundrum. 

“Not a threat,” Magnus said. “It’s a promise.”

***

Magnus didn’t like to go to Pandemonium often. He said it was good business to show his face here and there, to keep people interested and flowing in through the doors, but he liked the secrecy and seclusion of other, quieter clubs. Tonight, though, was apparently a night of good business, which meant that a sleek car picked them both up outside Alec’s apartment and drove them to Pandemonium, where people were already lined up along the curb.

“I still can’t believe you own this place,” Alec muttered. He peered through the tinted window at the mesh dresses and gleaming leather. Shocks of bright blue and yellow hair dotted the smoky evening. Someone was blowing bubbles further down the line, and they drifted near Alec’s face as he stepped out of the car. 

“I can’t believe that my hobbies still astound you,” Magnus countered. He strolled around the side of the car in towering boots, his eyelids thick with smoky silver, and tucked a finger through one of Alec’s belt loops, pulling him along. 

“Hobbies.” Alec scoffed. “I don’t think owning a club can be called a hobby, Magnus.”

“And a magazine,” Magnus reminded him, curling a wicked smile his way as they weaved through the line and slipped through the club doors. 

There was always the possibility for Alec to be jealous when he was around Magnus, especially now that he had no job and Magnus had several, but Alec couldn't feel it. He was never jealous of Magnus, who worked himself to the bone and earned everything he had, and who was fiercely kind and loyal, unable to leave a troubled soul alone, unable to leave a path unwandered. He couldn’t be jealous of someone who was so spectacularly individual. 

But he could be jealous of all the people around Magnus, the people Magnus loved. 

Alec felt eyes on the back of his head and hunched his shoulders. He was alright with being looked at most of the time; he didn’t go out much, but when he did, people looked. They looked at his height and his black hair and how he moved with fast purpose, and they looked at his scowl and the way his mouth kind of tipped to one side when he smiled. They looked, and then they looked away, because this was New York, and people stared and goggled shamelessly at anything that met their eyes, but they never remembered it for more than a moment. 

With Magnus, though, people kept looking. Magnus was magnetic, and Alec felt like stainless steel compared to gold, or silver. But he also felt polished, shining. 

The music hit him as they reached the end of the dark, poster-tacked corridor. Rich purple light filled the vast room thronged with writhing, laughing people, all sweat-soaked and dusted in glitter. Alec winced as the noise deafened his eardrums and pulsed in his veins, moving from the floor to his feet to his chest and heart. Magnus let go of his belt loop and beckoned him through the crowd, indigo nails curling like petals. 

“I’m not sure this was a good idea!” Alec shouted, but his words were lost under the dense noise. He repeated it again when they reached the bar, and Magnus eyed him critically before turning to the bartender and holding up two fingers. 

“I’ll drink them both if you like,” Magnus promised him, stepping close enough that they were pressed together, just so Alec could hear him. Alec could taste jasmine now, even over the sour tang of alcohol and sweat in the air. “We can go home if you really want to. But this might be good for you!”

Magnus still had to raise his voice, even this close. Alec caught every word and considered them carefully. Two glasses slid along the bar in the middle of his contemplation, one adorned with a cherry on a stick and the other clattering with ice cubes. The bartender knew them well. Magnus raised his eyebrow, waiting. 

Alec knew that he could go home right now, if he wanted. Magnus would probably drop him off, and might even stay for a bit, and they could drink in Alec’s shitty apartment and think about his lost job and complexly ridiculous life. Or Magnus might not stay. Alec might buy light-bulbs and spend the night eating cheese on his own. But regardless of whether he did stay or not, Magnus wouldn’t pressure Alec to do anything he didn’t want to do. That included drinking and clubbing and dancing. When it _really_ came down to it, when it wasn’t just fun teasing or a gentle nudge towards what was best, Magnus would always listen, and he’d never press. 

Alec had only known Magnus for a few months, but he knew him well enough to know that Magnus only wanted good things for Alec. 

“I can see those wheels turning,” Magnus said loudly, raising his other eyebrow. “Shall I get the car?”

Alec hesitated, and then gave in with a sigh. He dragged one glass towards him, took a large gulp and grimaced at the familiar, still repellent taste. Magnus was grinning triumphantly when he looked up, both ecstatic and proud. 

“I’ll stay.” Alec put the drink down again and threw Magnus a warning look. “I’m not dancing, though.”

“Don’t be so sure, darling.” Magnus swept his own drink off the counter with a flourish. “The night is still very, very young.”

Watching Magnus dance was the only reason Alec came out to clubs with him in the evening. 

He could listen to music he actually liked at home, at a normal volume that his ears could cope with. He could drink something that wasn’t bitter or sour, something that didn’t burn on the way down or make him dizzy, from the comfort of his own armchair. If he wanted smoke or bubbles he could buy a pack of cigarettes, a plastic wand and some dish-soap and make a mess in his own kitchen. The world was his oyster. He could have all that clubbing offered him at home, without the bits he hated. 

But he couldn’t watch Magnus dance at home, so he came out to clubs with him instead. 

He felt a bit weird, watching, at first. He always did. Magnus was one of those people that drew the eye and liked it, revelled in it, even if the revelling was subtle and coy. Alec had never seen him with a partner—granted, he hadn’t known him all that long, but still, it seemed odd. People came out of the woodwork when Magnus was around, and he danced with them and around them, slinking his way through bodies and touching in that light way he had of moving his hands, of never quite being firm. 

Alec watched, entranced, and sipped his disgusting drink. 

“You’re here again, are you?”

The bar was rowdy at this time of night, so Alec had moved to one of the plush couches situated in a quieter spot, near the back of the club. Catarina Loss seemed to ooze out of the blue velvet, lounging beside Alec on the spare portion of seat and leaning over to kiss his cheek. Her lips were dry, her eyes curious as she followed his gaze. Magnus was perfectly in his eye-line, dancing, his head thrown back as he rolled his body.

“Don’t start,” Alec said, when she smirked at him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Catarina said, stealing his drink right out of his hands. “I’m not here to listen to you whine and pine, anyway. Nights out are supposed to be fun, not maudlin and pathetic.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” Catarina sipped the drink, her dark eyes darting around the room. “Madzie asked after you.”

Alec grinned. Any mention of Catarina’s tiny spitfire of a niece made him grin like he had hooks in his mouth. It also made him miss Max fiercely, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. 

Catarina was Magnus’s friend, but she’d accepted Alec into the fold quickly enough. She was just like Magnus, in that they both drove him crazy, made his heart ache, and wanted to help in ways that he couldn’t accept. Madzie, her niece, was a quiet kid who loved drawing, maths, and kicking bullies in the shins. She wanted to help Alec get better at doing jigsaws. 

“How’d her test go?” Alec asked. “And the library trip?”

“She loved the library, but she wants Magnus to read her new book to her and not me. Apparently he does the best voices, but I think he told her to say that.” 

“There was probably bribery involved.”

Catarina snorted. “Heavy bribery. Chocolate and sparkly hair pins, I think. Come over on Saturday and she can tell you all about her test, since I didn’t come here to talk about that either.”

Alec rolled his eyes as she shoved the drink back into his hands. It was mostly empty now, so he downed the rest with another grimace and put the empty glass down on the table, adding to the collection of condensation rings gathering on the matte surface. 

“What _did_ you come here to do then?”

Catarina stood in one fluid movement, beckoning him imperiously. “Dance. Come on, up.”

Alec shrunk back against the couch. “No.”

“Come on, Lightwood, I don’t have all night.” Catarina tapped her foot impatiently. She cut a beautiful, imposing figure, all of her hair swept up into intricate braids. Her dress was the same blue as the velvet couch, but silky instead. It was a colour that Magnus wore too, a lot, a colour that Alec liked on him.

“Today really isn’t a dancing kind of day,” Alec said, as drily as he could. 

“Which is exactly why you should dance.” Catarina softened at the look on his face, and shook her head. “Magnus won’t ask you, because he thinks you’ll say yes just to keep him happy. But we both know that you _both_ want to dance with each other, don’t we?”

“Do we?” Alec said somewhat desperately. Up until three seconds ago, he’d had no idea Magnus wanted to dance with him.

“You’re not that oblivious, Alec.”

Alec pictured colourful fridge magnets in his mind. The clunky letters spelled out _it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay._ He knew what he wanted Catarina’s words to mean, but he didn’t know if he was assuming too much. He’d read bits here and there in Magnus’s eyes and hands and words. He’d read curiosity and—impossibly—want. But Alec had never been with another man in any capacity, or even a boy when he was a boy, and it was all too easy, he often told himself bitterly, to convince yourself that the things you wanted were right there waiting for you. That things would be okay, when sometimes they just plain old wouldn’t. 

But it was okay now. It was okay to be this way. 

Steeling himself, Alec let Catarina take his wrist and lead him away from the quiet corner. The crowd enveloped him easily, and he sunk into the shifting, swaying movements of people buzzing with alcohol, lust and life. It wasn’t comfortable, but he could bear it when Catarina’s chilled fingers left his, and he found himself with an arm on Magnus’s thin, almost lacy sleeve instead. Music pulsed all around them, and Magnus turned, eyes hazy with happiness, and froze when he saw who was touching him. 

Magnus had dressed him for the night. He’d brought a spare shirt in his bag, folded carefully, and deemed Alec’s tightest, newest jeans acceptable. The shirt wasn’t extravagant or threaded with shining colour, but the black fabric clung, and it felt heavy on Alec’s skin, pulling down slightly to reveal a slip of collarbone. He fit right in with all the people dancing around him, but he had never felt more like a sore thumb than he did in that moment, standing frozen with Magnus staring, breathless with shock. 

The spell broke when the song changed, moving to something a little slower, just as loud with a thumping rhythm. 

Alec shivered when Magnus slid a hand up his arm and pulled him in, leaning close to whisper-shout in his ear. “Are you alright? Did you want to leave?”

Yes, no. Maybe. Only if Magnus left with him. Alec had a lot of answers shuffling about in his brain, but the purple lights glanced off Magnus’s shining skin, distracting him. He couldn’t smell jasmine anymore, but he wondered if he could still taste coffee, or if cocktails and cherries lingered on Magnus’s mouth. 

“Dance?” Alec mouthed. 

Magnus’s eyes lit up. Alec saw his chest move heavily, like he was sucking in a breath, and then he nodded. A wicked smile curved at his lip, but it was replaced by something softer and slower as he tugged Alec close. It was odd, that it felt almost tentative, the way they touched. 

Alec spotted Catarina over Magnus’s shoulder, briefly, where she was dancing with a tall willowy woman, and then he lost control of all his senses. Magnus filled every space. They danced, moving hesitantly at first, and then closer and more intently. Magnus skimmed his hands all over Alec, and Alec tucked one hand in the back pocket of Magnus’s jeans, feeling brave and terrified all at once. 

The song changed again, and again. They were pushed around the dance-floor, but they didn’t come away from each other once, didn’t stop dancing. 

Not until Magnus spilled too close and brushed a lingering kiss against Alec’s jaw. 

Alec tugged with the hand in Magnus’s pocket, and they shifted even closer. Everywhere they touched felt like fire running over his skin, and Alec kept digging around for room to breathe inside, but there was none. Magnus kept filling all the space. 

“Okay?” Magnus asked, the vibrations of his voice whispering over Alec’s ear. “Too much?”

Alec shuddered, and then palmed his hand over Magnus’s ass. He felt Magnus’s sharp intake of breath and shuddered again. “Not enough.”

Magnus drew back sharply. He was flushed and incandescent. He grabbed one of Alec’s hands and ducked through the crowd, and Alec found himself being led through the club until they tumbled through the main doors. The cold air slapped him, bringing the blood to his face. He felt hot all over, filled with shivers, and he ducked around a giggling couple to follow Magnus.

Alec was pretty sure there was tequila on his shoes, but he was still breathless and grinning when Magnus stopped on the sidewalk, further down from the club. They could still see warm lights spilling out into the night, and there was still music in the air, but it was all dampened. 

“That wasn’t what I expected tonight,” Magnus said, drawing Alec in. His voice was rough and raspy from shouting over music, and Alec’s was much the same. “Hoped for, maybe.”

“You did say we were going to have fun,” Alec pointed out. 

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” Magnus said, still very much enjoying the moment, if his grin was anything to go by. Alec had a feeling that Magnus wouldn’t be taking any more steps tonight, though, not unless Alec took the lead. Which he was glad to do. He stepped closer, one hand finding Magnus’s cheek clumsy, and he leaned down to kiss Magnus. 

“Alec?” 

Alec jerked back before their lips could touch. His eyes flew open at the achingly familiar voice: Magnus’s eyes were still open, and he saw the speaker first, but Alec didn’t need to. 

“Alec,” Izzy said again, less of a question and more a breath of shocked relief. Her partner hovered beside her, and Alec felt his gut twinge as he realised he’d walked around her, disregarded her as just one half of a giggling couple. 

“Izzy,” he said, lost for words as he straightened up. His shoulders fell, and he glanced at Magnus’s unreadable expression. And then he looked back at Izzy, lifting a hand awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Hi?” Izzy demanded, her mouth forming a wide grin. “It’s been months, Alec. _Months,_ and you think you can just—”

She cut herself off and ran at him. Her hair was coming down from its plait, wisps caught in front of her eyes, and it all shook as she darted across the space between them until there was none left. 

Alec caught her easily. Eyes that had been alight with relief and happiness looked suddenly teary, blown wide with shock, and Izzy hid her face, muttering angrily under her breath as she hugged him. 

Alec recognised Meliorn standing back, looking vaguely uncomfortable. 

“I think maybe I should go inside,” Magnus murmured. He touched Alec’s arm gently when Alec opened his mouth, not sure what to say, and shook his head. “We can talk tomorrow, but I’ll get the car to take you home for now.” He cast a glance at Izzy, who had her face buried in Alec’s shoulder. “And you can bring whoever you like along with you, obviously.”

He met Magnus’s eye over Izzy’s shoulder, and he smiled softly at Alec before brushing past Meliorn. Alec couldn’t help but feel that he’d just let something very important slip away, but he couldn’t put his finger on what had just happened. Any other day, and he might hope that the important thing was still going to be there in the morning, but today everything seemed tremulous and uncertain. 

The only thing he knew was that he had something just as important in his arms right now, whispering curse words under her breath as she tightened her hold. 

“Iz,” Alec said softly, pressing his cheek against her smooth hair. “I missed you.”

“Isabelle,” Meliorn said, clearing his throat. He and Izzy had been a thing—Alec used any word loosely when applied to their relationship—on and off while Alec had still lived at home. Seeing him now, clearly just having finished a night of dancing with Izzy, was like stepping into the past. 

“Meliorn, if you think I’m leaving with you right now, you’ve got another thing coming,” Izzy said, her voice whip-sharp and clear despite the way she was tucked tightly against Alec. “Get a cab, and I’ll text you later.”

Alec tried to release his arms, just in case Izzy really did want to go with Meliorn, but to his relief she just held on even tighter. 

Meliorn narrowed his clever eyes, and then turned abruptly on his heel to stalk off down the street. 

“I think I just made an enemy,” Alec mused out loud. 

Izzy snorted out a laugh. “He never liked you anyway. He likes Jace, though. Sometimes I think he likes Jace more than me. And that’s really not the point, Alec.”

She drew away and stared up at him keenly. She was livid, still, judging by the set of her jaw and the way her eyes flashed. But she also looked indescribably happy. 

“You look like you’re feeling all my feelings for me,” Alec joked, numbness spreading from his fingertips. His voice was too flat for the joking tone to land, and he dropped the smile. “Iz, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Izzy held up a hand and shoved it over his mouth, much the same way she had when they were kids and she was younger and a girl, so nobody listened to her. She didn’t need to do it anymore to get people to listen to her, but Alec felt it was warranted. He still glared at her anyway. 

“Put the bitch-face away.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who disappeared! You can deal with my hand over your mouth for five seconds while I check to see if you’re still in one piece.”

“I wanted to say—” 

The few moments Alec had after prising Izzy’s hand away were short-lived. He continued to glower as she held her hand tightly over his mouth, muffling his words, but she was worried and sad, and he could feel it, so he didn’t protest too much. 

“I don’t want an apology,” Izzy said tightly. “I don’t want you to say sorry until I know what the hell happened, since I don’t trust mum and dad’s story, and you weren’t exactly available to ask.”

Alec didn’t say anything. 

“You barely said anything on the phone. I just had to pretend like you not being there was normal.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and Alec felt the bottom drop out of his stomach: Izzy never cried. She cried about small things, like spilling her favourite nail polish or ripping her nice sweater, or not having any coffee left for the morning when she went to make a cup. But in the face of big, horrible moments, and feelings that could rip a stone-cold General to shreds, Izzy was silent and grave. She never cried. 

“Shit, Izzy,” Alec murmured. “You don’t want to hear it, I know, but I’m sorry. I won’t say it again until I’ve explained, but I promise I will, okay? I’ll explain everything. Just not tonight.”

Izzy swiped under her eyes and opened her mouth, ready to shoot him down, but Alec shook his head gently. It stopped her in her tracks. 

“It’s late, and we’re both tired. You look like you haven’t slept in years. Tomorrow?”

“I have work tomorrow,” Izzy said. Then she shook her head and straightened up, the last of her tears disappearing. “I’ll call in sick. They owe me a few days anyway, or I’ll swap shifts with Maia. Do you _promise?_ Tomorrow?”

She was all steel again, all deadly and uncompromising. Alec didn’t blame her, but he knew she had to feel as unmoored as he did underneath it all. 

“There’s a coffee shop on the corner near my apartment that we can meet at, if you have the morning free. I’ll give you the address.”

He rattled off a string of words, and Izzy put them into her phone with steady, precise stabs of her fingers. 

The car Magnus had ordered came round the corner. Alec recognised the license plate, and bent to check the driver was someone he knew before nodding. 

“Elias can take you home.”

Izzy’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve got people to drive you places now?”

“Not me,” Alec said, shaking his head with a soft snort. He needed a moment. He needed several moments. “Tomorrow?”

She kept staring. Alec reached out and tugged her into another hug, and they sunk into the familiar hold. He had missed this. 

Elias leaned impatiently on the horn eventually, and Alec reluctantly let Izzy go. 

“Alright,” Alec snapped, when Elias beeped the horn again. 

Izzy chuckled. It was a soft, watery sound that made Alec want to keep hugging her and kick everyone who’d ever hurt her right in the dick. Not that she couldn’t look after herself, and not that it wasn’t Alec that had hurt her this time, but the point still stood. 

“Still aggressively angsty then, Alec?” She smirked, opening the passenger door. “Good to know you haven’t changed that much.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Izzy smiled faintly as she climbed into the car. “I don’t think I would be.”

Alec shook on the sidewalk until the car disappeared from view. It was going back to their childhood home, back to cold rooms and his parents and a warm kitchen. Back to Max asleep on the couch with a comic over his face and stolen sweets in his pockets. Back to Izzy’s feathery bed and perfume-scented room. Back to Jace, the brother Alec missed so much that he could barely bring himself to think about him.

More people began to spill out of Pandemonium, yawning and giggling, shoe straps hooked around their wrists. A line of cabs began to emerge from the gloom of the very early morning, their headlights piercing the misty air. It was cold, and Alec felt a bit numb. He wasn’t sure which feeling coursing through him he should cling to. 

He had lost his job. He had danced with Magnus. He had almost _kissed_ Magnus. And he had hugged Izzy for the first time in what felt like forever.

Izzy was for tomorrow, Alec decided, or else he’d burst at the seams. For now, he remembered Magnus’s soft, confused expression, the slightly hurt look in his eyes, the understanding in his voice as he told Alec to take his car. 

He could go back in and explain to Magnus. He could wade through the mass of dancing people and music and the loud, heavy atmosphere until he found Magnus and maybe he could pick up where they left off. But he didn’t really feel the same intense passion as he did a little while ago. He mostly just wanted company—Magnus’s in particular. 

But he didn’t know if they were there yet, and Magnus had said they could talk tomorrow, which implied that he wasn’t planning on talking to Alec tonight. 

Alec groaned as his brain ran in circles, and rubbed his temples. Maybe more than just Izzy was for tomorrow. Maybe the entire day was more than he could handle just now. 

Resigned to a night of eating cheese after all, Alec stuck his hand into the street, and hailed down a cab.

***

At home, Alec bypassed the fridge magnets that still spelled out one of Magnus’s terrible jokes, left the cheese behind, ignored his bed, ripped a notebook off the shelf in his bedroom, and sat with a burgeoning rush of terror and excitement, pen in hand. As the clock ticked closer to morning, Alec tentatively penned the beginnings of a new story. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta, lovely people!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was whiskey in abundance, there were sarcastic shopping sprees where Alec didn't buy much and Magnus tried hard to buy him anything and everything, there were club nights and morning pastries heavy with cream and strawberry filling. There was Magnus asking to help and Alec refusing to let him, and Magnus accepting it for then and now. It had evolved, much the way things often do, without the permission of the people involved. Alec knew a thousand things about Magnus, and yet it felt like there was always more to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally put two chapters instead of three. I underestimated my word count and how it fits together. So here you go! One more after this, and then it's done. All the warnings from the last chapter apply!

Alec didn't go to coffee shops for any other reason than to get coffee and go. He knew people spent hours in there, socialising and drinking and picking at pastries. He saw students when he passed through, typing lethargically at their essays with a resigned stubbornness to finish what was undoubtedly a waffling crock of shit. People sat at tiny tables on the sidewalk outside, being buffeted by the chill wind, their tiny dogs on leads tucked sadly under their crossed ankles, and actually seemed to enjoy their iced frappes. 

It was all big floppy hats and the snap of phones taking Mayfair photographs, and Alec didn't particularly like any of it. It irritated him. The noise and the flashiness of it all grated on him until he ended up grinding his teeth in the line. The only bit he liked was the coffee and the little cherry and rhubarb slices they sold in the mornings, if he got there in time. 

He bought two slices and a large black coffee. He bought Izzy a big cream choux bun with heaps of chocolate on top and took it all over to a table to wait. It was expensive, and his wallet cringed, but he shrugged it off. Near the window, he could see the street in all its glory: the wind ferrying stray pamphlets, old ripped newspapers and people’s runaway umbrellas down the drab sidewalk; the shadow of grey that fell from the sky like a shroud and blanketed the ground; and the crack of smart heels as they clicked their way over wads of chewing gum and abandoned ticket stubs. 

Alec saw it all, but he didn't take much of it in. He was barely there. He had tried to text Magnus, but his fingers wouldn't cooperate. He had spent most of the night writing, and deleting, and re-writing, and he still didn't have much to show for it. More than twenty-one words, but not by much.

Izzy was going to ask questions, and even though she rarely pushed and wouldn’t want him to get upset, Alec felt he owed her answers. His mind was stuck in a reel of memory that played like a staticy film, sticking on one particular moment. 

_“Alec,” Mom said coolly. Her chin was straight, her hair tied tightly at the base of her neck. “There’s a rumour circulating around regarding you.” Straight to the point, as always. “It reached a few ears at the firm. Your father’s coming down now to discuss them, but I want the truth from you first.”_

Alec tapped his fingers against his dull fork. He couldn’t bring himself to eat, keeping an eye out for Izzy’s puffy purple coat while his mind drifted back to that day. There had been no doubt in Maryse’s mind that Alec would tell her what she wanted to hear, and that it would somehow be the truth at the same time, if only because she demanded it to be. 

_Alec shifted in front of the fireplace. The fire had gone out a few hours ago and the room was cold, but not as cold as the stone that had settled in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t told anyone about the short story. Stupidly, he hadn’t used much of a pen name, either. It was deductible by anyone with half a brain, and the Lightwood’s knew plenty of people with brain tp spare. Mom waited, one thin eyebrow arched as he cycled through ways to answer her._

Someone with black hair marched past the window, and Alec perked up, but it wasn’t Izzy. 

_“You’ll have to be more specific,” Alec said. He kept his voice slow and non-confrontational._

_She pursed her lips, striding forward a few steps and lowering her voice slightly. “People are saying… they’re saying that you’re seeing a man. That you wrote about it for the public to see.”_

At the counter, someone fumbled an order, and the till rang a few times as drawers were opened and shut. It was a stark difference from the expectant, dread-filled silence inside Alec’s head, inside his past. 

_“Well?” Mom said impatiently. “Are you?”_

_The stone grew heavier. There was only one thing that question could refer to, but Alec had spent so long denying it that even thinking about it felt impossible._

_“Am I what?” Alec croaked out. At her incensed expression, he hurried on, his voice cracking several times even though he didn't want it to, tried not to let it. “You haven’t actually said it. You can’t make yourself say it, can you?”_

_“Alec,” Mom began, her face frosty, just as Dad opened the door to the study. He stepped inside and moved to speak, but whatever he said was lost in Alec’s declaration._

_“I’m not seeing a man,” Alec said. He took in their surprised expressions, and let the relief settle briefly before adding, “But I will be one day.”_

Izzy strolled past the window outside, her long hair streaming behind her like glossy smoke, her scarf trailing down to her hips. She darted into the coffee shop while he sat, frozen, watching her shake the dust of the city from her shoulders as she looked around. 

He half-stood, and she spotted him, her mouth curving into a fond, warm grin. 

_”What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Dad asked. Alec stared at him. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a conversation involving Alec, something that wasn’t to do with numbers and statistics, lawsuits and divorces. His face was unfamiliar, as hard as a wall and just as stone-grey at the growing realisation that Alec wasn’t kidding._

_”It’s not how I wanted to tell you,” Alec said, leaving off the obvious—he hadn’t wanted to tell them at all. He put back his shoulders, raised his chin and held his head high like they had taught him, before he said the one thing they wouldn’t want to hear. “But I’m gay.”_

“That’s pretty much as far as the conversation got,” Alec finished. Izzy gripped her coffee tightly, her wine-coloured nails stark against the off-white of the mug. She’d listened intently as Alec relayed the confrontation he’d had with their parents. 

“They made you leave?” Izzy asked. Her voice was so tightly wound that Alec thought her throat might bleed with the tension. “You told them you were gay and they made you _leave?”_

Alec picked up a sugar packet and rolled it between his thumb and finger. Each little granule felt like a small stone under his skin. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Alec said, because even now he didn't like to say it so bluntly, even though it was exactly like that. That was exactly what had happened. “They gave me some money, so I wouldn’t be on the street. They put it into my bank account, and Mom booked me a hotel.”

Silently. She booked the hotel silently, her lips pursed, her eyes flicking from the computer screen up to her husband, but never over to Alec. Everything was silent, including Alec. 

“Dad packed my bags,” Alec said quietly, his eyes drifting to the window so he wouldn’t see Izzy’s aching expression. “I think—I think that was the worst part actually. I just stood there while they organised it around me.” He huffed an exasperated laugh. “They've always done that, you know? Always organised shit to the point where you can’t breathe because your internal organs’ schedule’s been planned out for you.”

Izzy gave a bitter, wry smile. “I know. I live there.”

Alec rubbed his forehead, expelling a sigh as he sat back against the chair. “It wasn’t even discussed. They didn't talk about it. Dad was cold, and he asked if I was sure, if it wasn’t just a phase. Mom asked if I thought I could hide it ‘sufficiently’ or if I was going to cause problems for the family. But they’d already decided from the minute I told them. It was like a given, that I couldn’t stay if I was like this.”

Izzy’s hand relinquished its death grip on the mug, and she jerked her arm across the table to grip Alec’s hand. Alec thought she might have been the strongest out of all of them, but her hands always felt so small in his grip. 

“I thought maybe I could put it away,” Alec admitted. “Keep pretending everything was fine, keep it a secret. I’d been doing it for ages. I’m probably going to have to do it again, at some point. But I couldn’t lie then.”

“What they did,” Izzy said, losing her words for a moment before coming back in strong, “was the shittiest thing they’ve ever done, and that’s saying something.”

Alec smiled weakly at her. “I think I’d agree. But what I did was a close second.”

“What did _you_ do?”

“I left you.”

Izzy scoffed, sitting back in her seat, but Alec could see the trembling lines around her mouth. She was still upset, but she started to grin too. 

“Dramatic, much? You didn't leave because you wanted to. They’re just —” She moved her mouth, unable to find the words, and then threw up a hand with a familiar Lightwood flair. Or maybe just a familiar Izzy flair. “Impossible! They’re impossible.”

Alec shrugged, feeling very small and safe in the face of Izzy’s outrage on his behalf. He didn't need it, no matter what everyone else would say if he told them that, but it was nice to have it. “I should have tried harder, though. I should’ve just turned up and taken you to dinner or something.”

“I knew something wasn’t right. Mom said you’d had a disagreement, and you were staying with a friend for a while, and neither of them would say anything, and I couldn’t get you to talk to me. It was all just a mess.”

“I was kind of a mess,” Alec admitted. “That’s no excuse for leaving you without answers though. You’re the best person I know, Iz.”

Izzy pursed her lips before crumbling into half-laughter. “Don't look at me like that, it’s not fair. I should get to stay mad at you. At everything.”

“You can,” Alec said. He propped his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, and grinned at her. “I encourage it. It might stop me from doing stupid shit in the future.”

“Ha.” She pushed her nose up a little. “It should have worked by now, then. But I don't think you get why I’m mad.”

Alec furrowed his brow. He knew she wasn’t mad at him because he was gay, or because of what their parents had done to him. But he thought she might have been mad because he left anyway. Emotions never made much sense, especially when they concerned the people you loved, after all. 

“Alec, I’m not mad because you left,” Izzy said, rolling her eyes like she could read his mind. She downed the rest of her coffee and then let it slam back onto the table, fully fortified. “I’m mad because you didn't think I’d leave with you.”

Alec’s mouth dropped a little. He sugar packet fell from his fingers, landing in a drop of spilled coffee. 

“I just—it sucks,” Izzy said. “This whole thing sucks. I didn't know for sure that you were gay, but I had a feeling, from the way you looked at guys. And the way you didn't look at girls. I was waiting for you to tell me, but you didn't trust me enough to do it, and that’s—that’s not okay, Alec. I know it’s your choice when you tell people, if you tell them. But we should be able to tell each other things like this. And you should trust that I’d take your side.”

Alec glanced around the coffee shop, aware that Izzy’s voice was rising and it was a busy morning. The fridge magnets could insist that it was okay, that this was okay all they wanted, but he didn't particularly want to share his sexuality with a coffee shop full of strangers. And he didn't want Izzy to get even more upset. 

“Izzy,” he said insistently, putting a hand over hers. “Let’s go for a walk, yeah?”

***

They walked quite silently through the nearest park, the same one that Alec ran through in the mornings. Alec finished the last of his second cherry and rhubarb slice and dumped the napkin in the trash while Izzy admired a tree in the distance. It was all very awkward until they caught eyes and started laughing. Alec had missed that particular giggle Izzy released whenever she felt silly and caught out, the one that ended in a snort.

“God,” Izzy said, shaking her head. “Why is this so weird? You’re my brother. I saw you eat paint once. We shouldn’t be awkward around each other.”

“Hey! The paint thing was your fault.” Alec nudged her. “There’s room for awkward, I guess.”

“Not anymore. I’ve decided.” Izzy tugged him closer by the crook of his elbow. “Talk to me. Ask me things, so I can ask about that guy you were making out with last night.”

Alec wasn’t the blushing type. He got flustered, and he stuttered a little when he was caught off guard, and he had the goofiest grin imaginable when his face wanted to be embarrassing, but he wasn’t the blushing type. The most that happened was his ears heating up. It was the cold air against his cheeks that turned them red at Izzy’s statement, obviously. 

“I wasn’t making out with anyone,” Alec said, in a remarkably even tone.

“But you were _about_ to be. Either that or your online lessons on how to make friends have led you astray.”

Alec glared halfheartedly at her mischievous expression. It was too good to see her smile, even if it was because she was openly laughing at him. After her frustrated speech in the coffee shop, he felt he owed her a few details, even if they were more depressing than anything. Because of all the people in the world, and despite how little he had proved it, his siblings were the ones that Alec trusted the most. 

“His name’s Magnus,” Alec grudgingly admitted, to Izzy’s surprised delight. “Magnus Bane.”

Izzy came to a stop and squinted up at him. “Alec, please tell me you know who that is. Please tell me you at least Googled the man.”

“I didn't need to Google him,” Alec grumbled. “I’m not a hermit. I know who people are. Just because I don't stay up all night drooling over random celebrities on Instawhatever doesn’t mean I don't know who people are.”

Izzy patted him on the arm. “Instagram, but sure. It’s the actual, magazine-owner Magnus Bane then? Not a catfish, or someone with the same name?”

“Where do you think the fancy car came from?” Alec shook his head hopelessly at her little squeal of excitement. “I met him in the hotel elevator about a week after I left. He was staying there for a night or two while his apartment got fumigated for something.”

Izzy fluttered her eyelashes. “How romantic.”

“Very. He said I looked like I needed a drink, and then refused to leave me alone,” Alec said drily, looking back on the occasion with a twisting fondness in his chest. “He called me sweet cheeks at least twice.”

Izzy threw back her head and laughed. She reached up to pinch his unimpressed cheek and said, still giggling, “Well, he’s not wrong, but I hope he was only talking about these cheeks.”

“Shut up,” Alec said, without meaning it. “Tell me about home.”

Izzy’s face softened. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and peered pensively at the path winding through the park. There weren’t many green spaces around, but this was a nice one. He was glad he’d picked it.

“I told you about the affair.” Izzy didn't mince words, although she did soften her voice. “Mom seems to be holding it together, but I think that’s just for Max’s sake. There’s… there’s a bunch of court stuff involved, over Max, but dad isn't trying very hard. I think it’s just for show.”

Max was a bright spot for Alec, a little puddle of warmth on a wet day. He was cheeky, and always had a hug at the ready, even if his expression said he was too cool for that now. Alec didn't want to think of Max, cheerful, bright Max, sat between two snapping parents and knowing that half the words weren’t genuine. 

“Just for appearances,” Alec said flatly. He felt like he’d just bitten a lemon. His insides twisted up, and he sighed harshly through his nose. 

“Seems to be a theme.”

Alec glanced down at her. She was closest with their dad, although Alec didn't know what that entailed, since he’d never been invited to join them in the kitchen or the study while they talked softly or shared small presents. Not that he was all that jealous; he’d seen the way their mom treated Izzy. 

He wanted to ask about her, but she would probably pull the conversation along a tangent until they arrived somewhere else, somewhere far away from the complexity of Izzy’s emotions, and the fact that not many people tended to them. 

“What about Jace?”

Izzy pulled a face, her tongue poking out briefly. “He’s a moody asshole. You can quote me on that. I think it’s because he hasn’t seen you in a while, or maybe because that girl he met the other week won’t go out with him, but I don't want to ask because he just snaps whenever I do.” 

“He snaps at you?” Alec’s stomach twisted again, with guilt and a bit of anger this time. 

“That’s his problem, not ours. You might want to call him, though.” Izzy waved a hand and abruptly dragged him forward onto the grass. “Come on, spar with me. I’m bored of being an adult.”

Alec spluttered as he was yanked across the dewy grass, his shoes getting damp and slippery. Izzy just kept laughing and cajoling him forward, and eventually he gave in, shedding his jacket as Izzy pranced about. It wasn’t like he had a job to get to anymore, and even if he did—this was more important.

***

Bills were a fact of life, and having somewhere to live was sort of necessary, and paying those bills meant the last bit was possible. So he needed a job.

“I could always be your Sugar Daddy,” Magnus suggested, with a bit of a sly grin as he eyed Alec over the kitchen table. “You can provide me with private reenactments of that table dance you did at Catarina’s, and I’ll pay for anything that takes your fancy.”

“I’m pretty sure you made that up, since I don't remember a table dance.” Alec picked up another envelope and winced. He was surrounded by copies of his resume and cobbled-together cover letters, and the glare from his battered laptop hurt his eyes. As did the application form open on the screen, which Alec was avoiding looking at.

“Maybe you don't, but I do.” Magnus passed him a fresh coffee. The mug was blue with a smiling cartoon cloud on the front, so Magnus must have put it in his cupboard. All of Alec’s mugs were brown or dark green. “It was spectacular. And we have a table right here, so hop up, and hopefully it’ll jog your memory.”

Magnus patted the table encouragingly, smirking.

Alec rolled his eyes and took a gulp of coffee, immediately recoiling at the heat. He gasped as steam tumbled out of his ears in a panicked stream, trying to escape the enclosed space. The mug went down and he stuck his burning, wounded tongue out, glaring at Magnus.

Magnus winced, lifting his own boiling coffee to his mouth. “I take it the table dance is… off the table?”

Alec groaned, running his thumb under his bottom lip to mop up spilled coffee. “Why haven’t all your bad puns been burned away yet? You’re not supposed to drink coffee when it’s this hot.”

“The nature of a pun is to be bad, so there’s no such thing as a bad pun.” Magnus sat at the table and sent a charming smile Alec’s way. Alec wished he was immune to those, and he thought he did a stand-up job of seeming so on the outside, but on the inside he melted like butter. 

“If you say so,” Alec murmured, shaking his head as he patted at the spilled coffee on his shirt.

“So.”

Alec frowned briefly Magnus’s way. “So?”

“Any luck?”

“With what?”

“With the piles of paper you’ve been buried in ever since I got here,” Magnus said, peering over the top of his mug. “Or the girl—who I wanted to assume was your sister, but there’s still time to prove me wrong—who I believe was crying on you the other night.”

Alec jerked, knocking a pile of unsealed envelopes closer to the edge of the table. He scooted them back to the middle and fixed Magnus with a disbelieving look. Magnus looked like he was trying very hard to appear unbothered by whatever Alec might say.

“You thought she was—what— _not_ my sister?”

“Distant cousin, deranged ex, one-night stand.” Magnus shrugged, but the spark in his eyes belied his casualness. “Girlfriend that you’d forgotten to mention. Sister. I mean, I was hopeful about sister, but I’ve been wrong about these things before, and let’s just say it’s not much fun when the truth comes out.”

Alec’s face fell into a scowl. He should have texted sooner, should have let Magnus know exactly what was going on. He didn't like the thought of Magnus being lied to by past partners, and he didn't like the idea that he might be something similar.

When Alec had met Magnus in the elevator and consequently been sucked into his life, he never quite got around to explaining what had happened. Everything was a whirlwind of drinks, invitations to get more drinks, requests to join him for dinner, and then breakfast, and then lunches that somehow involved Madzie and Catarina, and then evenings at Alec’s shitty apartment, once Magnus helped him find it. 

There was whiskey in abundance, there were sarcastic shopping sprees where Alec didn't buy much and Magnus tried hard to buy him anything and everything, there were club nights and morning pastries heavy with cream and strawberry filling. There was Magnus asking to help and Alec refusing to let him, and Magnus accepting it for then and now. It had evolved, much the way things often do, without the permission of the people involved. Alec knew a thousand things about Magnus, and yet it felt like there was always more to know. 

In the very middle of the whirlwind, there was the fact that Alec had never discussed why he was staying in a hotel, without anywhere to go, with no job and very little belongings. They had strayed close to the subject once or twice, and Alec had clammed up whenever he’d seen the glint in Magnus’s eyes that said he wanted to fix things, to offer money and a place to stay, and that had been that. Magnus never voiced his disappointment. He was good at knowing when to push.

It wasn’t that Alec didn't want to talk to Magnus about it. It was just that he was twenty-three, and it was strange to some that being kicked out of his home was a big deal. Alec didn't think Magnus would judge him for still living at home, but he didn't want to disclose the reason why he no longer was, even though he was pretty sure Magnus had guessed. He didn't want to talk about it, to make it real.

And it was hard, even now, to ask for help even when he sorely needed it. 

“She’s my sister,” Alec said, picking up a pen just to have something to do, since his coffee had betrayed him. “Her name’s Isabelle. Or Izzy, if you like. I haven’t seen her in a while and I wasn’t expecting to see her that night, so she sort of took me by surprise.”

“Yes, I guessed that,” Magnus said, and he was smiling warmly when Alec looked up, a teasing glint in his eye. The uncertainty was gone. Alec took the cap off the pen and flicked it across the table towards him, and Magnus caught it with his clever fingers, chuckling. 

“Alright, yeah, it was obvious, but you’re the one who thought she was my girlfriend.” Alec shook his head. “She’s coming over tomorrow, if you want to meet her.”

“Why, Alexander, are you implying that I’ll be spending the night?” Magnus leaned over the table, the pen cap trapped under his fingers. His other fingers played with the handle of his mug as he watched Alec, a little sly and a little dark. Hopeful, too, if Alec wasn’t mistaken. Alec felt hot, all of a sudden, and a little like his tongue had swollen, glued to the roof of his mouth. 

“If you like,” he managed to get out. “I kept the airbed from the last time Madzie was here.”

The doorbell gave a raspy croak. Whoever had pressed the buzzer swore audibly through the thin door and started hammering on the surface. 

Magnus drew back with a soft laugh. The heat shattered, and Alec mourned its loss. 

“I’m not sure, but I _think_ the takeout might be here,” Magnus said, standing without letting go of his precious coffee. “I’ll get the plates. Eat in here?”

“Where else?” Alec scoffed, getting to his feet. He crossed the room in three strides, listening to the clatter of ceramic as Magnus rifled around in the cupboards, and threw open the door. 

“Hi!” said the delivery boy brightly. 

Alec eyed the fist still curled in mid-air, ready to knock again, and then turned his glare on the boy when it dropped. There was a name-tag on his shirt that Simone, and someone had doodled a pineapple beside it.

“Do you always try and break down your customers doors?” Alec asked, reaching for the money he’d stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans. 

“Well, no, but you have no idea how many broken doorbells have led to me being almost fired, dude.” Simone bounced on the balls of his feet, awkward and apologetic as he fumbled for the large food bag on his shoulder, the velcro slurping as it was undone. 

“Wait—sorry, lemme just—okay, here’s one box.”

Alec took the box handed to him and transferred it quickly to the stand beside the door so he could take the next few boxes. 

Watching Simone struggle quickly became very, very painful. “Don't you usually bring this stuff tied up in a bag?”

“Usually,” Simone said, wrestling another tub out of the food bag. “But there’s new regulations and stuff, and the manager caved under Clary’s insistence that we limit plastic use and stuff like that, so. You get fun moments like this!”

“Magnus!” Alec called, only to frown when he realise Magnus was standing right there, watching with an amused smile. He gestured with the armful of boxes and tubs. “Could you take these?”

“I’d much rather handle the money side of things,” Magnus said, grinning a bit evilly as he darted round Alec. Alec went tense all over as Magnus slipped a hand in his back pocket, and his eyes darted to Simone, who was too busy coaxing the last pot of sauce out of the bag. 

Magnus palmed his ass, squeezing slightly. 

“Magnus,” Alec said, grating the word between his teeth. “I put the money on the side with the first box.”

Simone looked up just as Magnus withdrew his hand. 

“My mistake,” Magnus said cheerfully. He snatched up the money without looking and handed it to Simone, who traded it for the pot of sauce. Simone took it in a daze, and he only snapped out of it when Alec cleared his throat pointedly, arms still full of food. 

“Oh, sorry! Hey, you don't—you own that club, don't you? You’re Magnus Bane?” Simone looked so excited that Alec thought he might pass out. “And you own that magazine, and you’re starting a clothing line!”

Magnus’s eyebrows climbed higher and higher as Simone grew visibly giddy. Alec subtly tried to elbow the door closed, but nearly dropped the pad thai on his feet. 

“That’s me,” Magnus said, putting one hand casually on the door to keep it open. Alec scowled at him. “Keep it a secret, won’t you?”

Simone nodded, wide-eyed. “Yeah, of course, no problem. It’s just—it’s a really cool club. Like, _really_ cool.” He perked up suddenly, turning to Alec. “That must be where I know you from! I thought you looked familiar.”

Alec arched an eyebrow. “Are you even old enough to be at Pandemonium?”

“Be nice, Alexander,” Magnus said mildly. He dug in his pocket for a tip and pushed it into Simone’s hand with a wink. “For the charming service. We’ll see you around.”

Simone saluted, which was objectively the funniest thing Alec had seen, and if his arms weren’t about to fall off he would have laughed right in the guy’s face. As it was, he just put a little more elbow grease into nudging the door shut, and snickered in the silence. 

“I think he might be hyperventilating,” Alec said, groaning as he moved past Magnus, weighed down with food. “ At least he’s doing it after we got out food. I think it’s probably cold by now.”

“Alexander,” Magnus chided, but there was laughter in his voice.

***

Alec stuck a chopstick deep in the heart of his meatball. He’d cooked, for possibly the first time in quite a few weeks, and the result was bland, floppy spaghetti and meatballs that might have had too much pepper in them. Alec didn't consider himself a bad cook: quite the contrary, in fact—usually he was pretty damn good, but today he was off his game.

“You know, there are a few things we haven’t talked about.” Magnus waved his own chopstick around, spaghetti curled loosely around the end. “The first thing being your persistent lack of cutlery.”

Magnus hadn’t stayed the night. Not just because Alec only had the airbed that Catarina had gifted him when she was sick and Madzie wanted to stay over. He didn't even have a couch, but it was also because neither of them had actually talked about the thing hovering between them. It was a palpable, tender thing that floated back and forth between them, asking the same question: _why haven’t you done anything about me yet?_

Alec didn't know why. If something mattered, then it mattered enough to do something about it, and this mattered more than Alec could explain. It mattered so damn much. So he didn't know why he hadn’t done anything about it. 

“There are more important things to buy than spoons and forks,” Alec said, shrugging. 

Magnus put his chopstick back on his plate and sighed. “Like couches? Like a washing machine, or a bed that doesn’t hurt your back?”

Alec bristled, even though Magnus was right. 

“Alexander,” Magnus said sharply, watching him so keenly over the table that Alec went stock still. “I’ve seen you wincing in the morning because you’ve slept funny. You never have enough food in your fridge, you’re always going without something, and your apartment is—well, impossible to describe without words that would make a Nun blush. But it’s not a home, whatever it is. It’s not a place where you can feel safe, or be comfortable.”

Alec looked around at the drab walls and the faded curtain on the kitchen window. It was cold in his apartment, and the carpets were dusty even though his neighbour reluctantly let him borrow their vacuum every now and again. He hadn’t told Magnus about that. 

“This wasn’t even what I actually wanted to talk about,” Magnus said, in a soft, cotton voice. “I just don't like seeing anybody live like this, and I especially don't like seeing you live this way. You’re important to me, Alexander.”

Alec bit off a portion of rubbery meatball and chewed it, before he dropped the rest on his plate. 

“You’re important to me too,” Alec said. “More than you know.”

Magnus raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to expand on that last bit. Alec wasn’t sure that he could. It was one thing to almost kiss Magnus in the heat of the moment in a dark club, with alcohol in his system, and it was quite another to properly kiss him on at five o’clock on a Wednesday. But that was what Alec wanted. He wanted all the five o’clock kisses for as many Wednesdays as they had left. 

“I’m gay,” Alec said. 

It was weird, how the words could hurt inside his throat but sound so relieved and sweet once they were out. Magnus looked quite taken aback, but Alec wondered, through the hazy fear in his mind, if that was because it was sort of a given by now, and not because he was disgusted or disappointed. 

“If you’re waiting for me to be shocked,” Magnus ventured cautiously, his hand creeping across the table to grasp Alec’s, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. Not that it isn’t lovely to hear you say it. And not that I don't understand how hard it is to say sometimes. But I thought…”

“I know you already knew that,” Alec said wryly. “Or that you’d guessed, because of that night at the Pandemonium.”

“And all the nights before that,” Magnus teased gently. His hand was warm and welcome, his rings cold against Alec’s skin. Alec had thought about those rings, about what it would be like to wear them, to feel them everywhere, to put them in his mouth and love them with his tongue. It took a heavy portion of his self-control not to lift Magnus’s hand and kiss every inch of it. 

“It’s not like I thought you didn't know,” Alec said, his voice rougher than he’d like. “I’m not destroying any subtlety records right now, and I never have. I know that. I just—I’ve never said it out loud to you before. Out loud, to me, is important. I was always like this, I was always gay, it’s just—it’s important to me, that I can say it. That people can hear it, rather than guess.”

Magnus squeezed his hand, and the empathy and understanding in that one small gesture made all the hazy fear retreat like summoned soldiers tramping through the fog. There was no war here, no battle to be won this time, just Alec and Magnus in a cold kitchen at five o’clock on a Wednesday.

He’d said the words that were supposed to be the hardest ones. He could say the other words now. The parts that made him search for dying apples and fridge magnets and a new route to run every morning. 

“And the only time before now that I’ve said it out loud was to my parents. Right before I had to live in that hotel you found me in.”

Magnus’s expression, which had been openly warm and confused, darkened at Alec’s words. Alec thought of the sky on the rare days when he had to run in the evening rather than the morning. It turned black and ominous with all the swiftness of a page turning in a familiar book, pockets of darkness filling the grey evening with smoke until the canopy covering the world was obscured. 

Magnus sat back. He didn't let go of Alec’s hand, so Alec had to lean forward slightly. The plastic patio chairs creaked beneath both of their weight, and a silence tinged with anger filled the room. 

“I don't,” Magnus began, but he had to shut his mouth. Alec watched him, concerned. 

“Are you alright?”

“I am supposed to be asking you that,” Magnus said delicately, enunciating each word carefully, as though he wanted to be sure nothing foul slipped out of his mouth. “Alexander, you didn't deserve that. Whatever happened, however it came about—none of it should have happened to you, understand?”

Alec shrugged. “I do now. I didn't at first. In that hotel, I didn't know what to feel. I knew they wouldn’t like it, if they found out. I thought I could hide it for longer, until I had a better job, and some more money saved up, and somewhere to go just in case. But even with all that in mind, I don't—I don't think I actually _believed_ they would get rid of me.”

Magnus flinched. He rose up out of his chair, unlacing their fingers, and rounded the table. Alec swivelled in his chair so he could watch Magnus approach, his pulse hammering in his throat, and he didn't breathe until Magnus was right in front of him, pressed up against his knees. 

“What are you doing?” Alec murmured, reaching out anyway. Magnus reached out too, and their hands collided and caught. They latched on, fingers sliding together. 

“You should never have had to think about it,” Magnus said. “You should never have had to plan for something so horrible. And I hate that it happened. It’s not going to happen here, ever. Not with me.”

Alec had never seen Magnus stumbling over his words before. It was like he had too many phrases in his head, and he couldn’t pick which one he wanted to use to reassure Alec first. 

Alec found himself laughing dizzily as he slid his hands around Magnus’s waist. It was a first. He had never touched Magnus like that before, never wrapped his fingers over Magnus’s hips as though that was why he had fingers in the first place. There were so many firsts: the way Magnus dipped his head so he could reach Alec, sitting lower in the chair, and the way his hair fell forward into his face because he was about to kiss Alec, and the way the chair creaked because Alec was leaning up to meet him. 

Their almost-kiss had been hot and desperate, a wave on the verge of breaking. Their first proper kiss was heady, slow. Alec’s mouth was too dry, and he wanted to lick his lips, but Magnus was kissing him, and that seemed more important. His eyes fell shut as he shivered with the sensation. 

He tugged a little on Magnus’s hips, and Magnus fell forward, his knee sliding along Alec’s thigh before it landed between them, on the chair. Alec made a bitten-off noise, sucking in a breath through his nose as he kissed Magnus hard, moving his mouth slowly. He caught Magnus’s bottom lip and worried it with his mouth. He let it go, and Magnus exhaled roughly into the small space between them. 

They chased each other, noses nudging, and the space didn't last for long.

The doorbell rasped, and Alec ignored it. Magnus laughed against his mouth, sending sparks down his spine, and Alec opened his mouth further, nudged at Magnus’s bottom lip with his tongue and savoured the warm, wet feeling. One of them groaned, and it was lost in the impatient banging on the door. 

Magnus drew back with a breath. “There’s someone at the door.”

“I was a bit busy,” Alec murmured, his eyes lingering on Magnus’s red mouth. Magnus was holding his shoulders, he realised, skimming his hands over his shirt like he wanted to slip beneath it. Alec’s hands had moved too, sliding under the back of Magnus’s shirt. He could feel smooth, hard muscle under his hands, and the softness of skin. 

“It’s probably your sister,” Magnus pointed out. Which was not a sentence that inspired further exploration of the path they’d wandered onto. Alec groaned, dropping his forehead briefly against Magnus’s shoulder. 

Magnus laughed, clambering off him and striding off to open the door, which shook in its hinges. He heard Izzy’s indignant exclamation morph into one of delight and shock, and Magnus’s answering introduction.

Alec looked at the fridge as he stood, picking up the forgotten plates of spaghetti absently. The magnets spelled out ‘get better coffee.’ Magnus had put them there, rearranging the letters while Alec was distracted with dinner, and the thought made him grin. 

He touched his bottom lip hesitantly, and then jerked his hand away when Izzy stormed into the room, flinging herself at Alec and berating him for not leaving her any food. 

“There’s leftovers in the pot,” Alec said, catching Magnus’s smile over her shoulder. 

When he saw them both out, later that evening, and went to grab some juice before bed, the magnets spelled out ‘date?’ and Alec was willing to bet that Izzy hadn’t been the one to put them there.

***

Alec was still fired. The nice things that seemed to be happening—finding Isabelle, kissing Magnus, having a surplus amount of light-bulbs for unknown reasons that probably had to do with Magnus—didn't change the mess piling up around him. He had no job, Magnus was paying for their dinner more often than not, and a few bills stuffed in his mailbox were stamped with red. Not a happy red, like the shine of an apple, but a vivid, angry red.

He went running on the Thursday morning after the third bill, the second Thursday since Magnus had kissed him. Envelopes were piled up on his table, and some had already been sent out while others had nowhere to be sent to. His inbox pinged with polite, clinical rejections. 

Alec ignored them, and ran. He settled into a rhythm easily as the sky above turned lighter and lighter. His feet pounded against the ground, and his pulse took up a steady beat. A symphony that said: _I’m alive, alive, it’s okay, okay._

He ran through the conversation he’d had with Magnus, and the kiss, and the one he’d had afterwards with Izzy, sat on his dismal living room floor. 

_“Alec,” Izzy said incredulously, her voice cracking as she stared all around. He followed her gaze to the damp corners and the sparse, empty spaces where belongings should fit. He knew it looked bad. “Alec, you can’t live like this.”_

_”It’s not that bad.”_

_And it really wasn’t. It could have been a thousand times worse. It could have been a hotel that eventually threw him out, or an alleyway, or a crowded shelter. It could have been his childhood home, if things had gone differently. He was under no illusions what happened to some people when they came out, or were dragged out. He used to torture himself in the dead of night, lying awake as he ran through possible scenarios, each one more awful than the last. It made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat as fear caught up to him. He was strong and confident, but you could be all those things and still feel fear too. Especially over something like this._

_But just because it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, didn't mean that he had to pretend it was good._

_”Magnus said you lost your job,” Izzy said, redirecting her gaze back to Alec, sharp and keen. “What are you going to do?”_

Alec had said that he’d find another one, but right now that was looking less and less likely before his next lot of rent was due. Not to mention the fact that all the jobs he’d applied for were firmly in the category of insurance, solicitors, or law, and he didn't actually feel a calling towards any of those things. But dreams were for other people, and paying bills was for Alec and the rest of the world. He knew what he had to do, but damn if he didn't want to do it. 

Sighing, Alec jogged to a slow stop near the bench where Izzy had called him. She hadn’t said much the other night about mom and dad’s situation, and when he’d asked about Jace she’d snorted and said to call him. 

So he had asked about Izzy instead, like he should have done in the first place. She was studying Forensics still, shitting bricks about her exams despite her calm exterior, and had taken a job as a barista in a lounge not far from home. 

_“They have live music there sometimes, and slam poetry,” Izzy had said, accepting the wine that Magnus handed her with a warm grin and patting the ground for him to take a seat. “You should drop by. But if you say anything embarrassing to Maia I’ll put milk in your drink.”_

_”Why is that a valid threat?” Magnus had said, folding himself into the space beside Alec and staring at him curiously._

_“He’s lactose intolerant.”_

_Alec had pulled a face while Magnus gaped at him._

_”Alexander, I’ve seen you eat cheese by the bucket.”_

_Alec had shrugged. “Sometimes you have to suffer to enjoy life.” While Izzy laughed at him and Magnus muttered disbelievingly under his breath, Alec narrowed his eyes at Izzy. “Who’s Maia?”_

Alec still didn't know who Maia was. He intended to find out at some point, but with these things it was probably better to let Izzy come to him. Not to mention, it would be pretty hypocritical to demand information when he’d only just started giving any in return.

His phone lit up with a text before he could send one, and he blinked down at it in surprise. 

_So, you never actually answered my incredibly romantic question regarding our date._

Alec snorted, lifting his phone a little higher with a small grin. 

_I was about to text you._

The phone lit up again, this time with an incoming call, and Alec abandoned the remainder of his run in favour of a slow, long call with Magnus. 

At home, still smiling, he cut his apple into pieces. He’d run out of yogurt, but if he chopped it up small the way he might dice an onion, then it went okay with granola, and he had plenty of that. He ate spoonfuls of cereal and apple and gulped down coffee between mouthfuls as he thought about all the things he wanted to say to Magnus. 

This was living. This was being alive. Eating an apple that nobody else wanted but still tasted good, and staring at the fridge magnets that still posed Magnus’s last question. 

Alec was a proud person. Lightwood’s didn’t ask for money, they didn’t beg or plead, and they didn’t take charity. All the little bones in his body rattled, incensed, when he thought about asking for rent money from Magnus, or his parents. But Lightwood’s couldn’t work miracles, no matter what tales he’d been told from the moment he was born to the moment he stopped listening. And Alec didn’t have a job, but he did have bills and friends that wouldn’t leave him out to dry. 

“Huh,” Alec said, putting down his half-empty bowl. He hadn’t been able to claim that he had friends like that before. Some family, sure, but not friends. It was a novelty, a nice feeling. He didn’t want it to go away. 

Which meant he had to get his shit together.

***

“That one goes there, doesn’t it?” Alec pretended to slot a puzzle piece into the wrong section. Madzie, who was not a toddler and enjoyed calling Alec out when he acted like one, took hold of his wrist in her tiny fingers and moved it across the jigsaw until it hovered over the correct space. Her expression was knowing and dry, but her mouth kept twitching up into giggles.

“Here,” she said, tapping the bit of pink that matched the piece in Alec’s hand. “You _know_ that.” 

Alec grinned at her, and she smiled shyly back. He’d had no real opinion on kids before Madzie—they were sweet and smelly and annoying and loud and lovely. He’d gathered those facts from his time as the eldest of four—because even without knowing Jace as a baby, he knew that Jace had been all those things and more. But Madzie was clever, small, and she liked hugs. She excelled at jigsaw’s and maths, and could draw better cows than Alec, which was a bit of an offence, really. 

Alec loved her. He was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. 

“Put this one down next,” Madzie said, handing him a jigsaw piece with the rear end of a pig on it. It was a farmyard scene, full of flowers and overzealous wildlife wreaking havoc. Alec had already taken a picture of a cartoon duck and sent it to Izzy, captioned ‘Jace.’ He had received a string of those little laughing faces in return. 

“Say please,” Catarina said, striding in with one of Madzie’s school cardigans in her hands. “You know paint’s supposed to go on paper, right? Not on you.” 

Madzie grinned again, ducking her head to examine the box of pieces. Alec tapped her nose to earn a giggle before rising, joining Catarina at the couch. It was barely visible under an avalanche of laundry. 

“Need a hand?” 

“Fold these, and then tell me why you moped in here,” Catarina said, throwing a bundle of school shirts his way. “Dot and Magnus are coming round later, so if it involves either one of them then you might want to clear the air first.” 

Alec scrunched up his face as he began to fold. “Why would it involve Dot? I barely know her.” 

“Your loss.” Catarina shrugged. “So it involves Magnus then.” 

Alec put down the first folded shirt, sighing. “Yeah, sort of. And you, I guess. And pretty much everyone who’s offered me help that I’ve turned down.” 

He expected a bit of smugness, maybe a pointed look or a smirk. He expected Catarina to say ‘I told you so.’ It was surprising then, when she put down a balled-up pair of socks and fixed him with a serious, patient stare. 

“What do you need?” 

Alec picked up another shirt to hide his surprise, but Catarina still spotted it. She snorted softly. 

“We’ve been offering to help since we’ve known you, Lightwood. I’m not going to shame you for finally doing what I’ve been hoping you would for ages.”

Alec finished folding the shirt and patted the little embroidered daisy on the front as he set it on the pile. He sighed, squared his shoulders, and turned to Catarina. 

“I need a job, but I can’t find one. I have some money, but not enough for my next rent, so I either need to find a job right now or—or borrow some money until I find one. Or both.”

Catarina’s mouth curved up into a soft, warm smile. 

“I can take care of the rent money for the next two months, if it comes to that. I expect Magnus can take care of the job, if you ask him.”

Alec’s eyebrows shot up in surprise—rent here was _expensive_ —but he decided not to comment. Catarina had a job at the nearest hospital that shouldn’t pay that much, but she was a busy woman, and her apartment was beautifully decorated, with enough room for two more Madzie’s, should she choose to have them. 

“I would have done it sooner, but your pride makes for a very big obstacle,” Catarina said, smirking. Madzie sprinted in from the other room, a drawing clutched in her hand that fluttered like a wing caught in a breeze. It was the only reason Alec didn't _verbally_ express how much Catarina could fuck off. He settled for a glare instead, and she laughed loudly as she picked Madzie up, swinging her up onto her hip. 

“I drew this,” Madzie said, holding out the picture shyly. Her bright eyes hovered somewhere around Alec’s chin, still a bit wary of eye contact at times, but he smiled anyway and took the picture, smoothing it out carefully. 

“Wow,” Alec said, after a pause, taking in the stick figures. One had blue hair that stuck upright and the other was inexplicably sporting what appeared to be elephant feet. They were holding appendages, although if Alec had to put his life on the line for the correct answer, he’d have to die rather than say which appendage was being held by what. 

“This is really good, Madzie. I love this flower.”

“It’s you and Uncle Magnus at the park, in love,” Madzie said plainly, before wriggling down out of Catarina’s grasp. 

Alec turned crimson, coughing as Madzie moved to hug his knees. He hugged her back despite the awkward angle. He could feel his heart growing and blushing. 

“I love it,” Alec said, and then made sure to look up at Catarina, whose face had softened, when he said, “Thank you.”

***

The decision to let Catarina help him didn't come lightly, and it took Alec the half hour trip home to decide it had been a terrible idea. He paced back and forth his cramped living room—about three strides either way, if he was generous—and then collapsed with a groan in the chair.

He felt like a marionette with cut strings. His parents had pulled the little threads his entire life, manipulated him firmly into putting on a show his entire life, and then snipped them the minute he tried a little improvisation. The minute he tried to _live._ But he was expected to prance about on stage now without any help, any guidance, shoved into the spotlight with no forewarning and nobody to catch him in the wings. 

At least, that had been the reality when he was first kicked out. He had eaten cheap, bad takeaway in a hotel room that he hadn’t paid for, searching desperately for a job but without the enthusiasm he needed to be able to get one. His strings had drooped all around him. 

When the money ran out, and Alec ran into Magnus in an elevator going up, it had been the start of picking up the strings. Help like that was okay. Help like this, where he drained people of money just because he couldn’t manage to keep a stable job? That wasn’t okay. 

Alec fished out his phone to call Catarina, to lie and say that he didn't need it, that he’d stumbled on a gold mine on the way over to his apartment, so there was no need to worry, when his eyes fell on the notecard. 

Izzy had moved the rickety table into the middle of the room the other night to rest their chow mein on. It was still there now, like a rickety table could keep the happy atmosphere from that night trapped in the room. Like it was balanced on the tabletop. 

And maybe it was, Alec thought, as he stood abruptly and crossed to pick up the notecard. It was exactly the same as it was on the day he’d received it in the mail, albeit a little less pristine and a little more bent at the corners. It felt like a normal piece of card in his hands, but it was much more. 

He flipped it over and read the scrawl on the back for the thousandth time. 

_Alexander,_

_Thank you for your purchase, lovely customer. It’s not much, but I hope this print brightens your day…_

_Best wishes,_

_M._

It really wasn’t much. But it was enough. 

Scrawled at the bottom, in faded blue ink, was a username. Alec blew out a breath and steadied himself. And then he picked up his phone: it wasn’t as though he had much else to do today, and he needed a distraction.

***

An absent-minded man could be forgiven for his lack of attention on a busy street, strewn with rain and litter. He couldn’t be forgiven for not moving out of the way of an incoming stroller, in the eyes of the enraged woman who had just snapped all the bones in Alec’s ankles.

“Jesus fuck,” Alec muttered, side-stepping the woman and trying his best not to wobble. Lightwoods didn't wobble, not even in a warzone. His ankle throbbed, and his eyes stung. 

“Just standing right in the way,” hissed the woman irritably as she pushed past, her weapon of four-wheeled, squalling destruction at the ready. “Does nobody in this city have any sense, for fu—”

Alec watched her shrink into the crowd, gaping. He was sort of used to Brooklyn, with its frenetic followers and streams of ant-like people dithering here and there. He had always been a man of purpose, a man without whim, and suddenly he was the slow-walker that bumbled about and paused in stupid places, goggling at perfectly ordinary buildings. 

With another few steps, Alec found himself in the sheltered doorway of the ordinary building he’d been goggling at. The rain had curled his hair more effectively than any iron, and his jacket was slick, his left sock a bit damp from the gap worn into the back of his boot. 

But it was a bright rain. The sun was out, the grey clouds sighing as they lost their burdens. The puddles on the ground shone. Alec listened to the patter of rain on the shelter above him, the glass awning that offered him an ill-defined view of the towering offices. 

“Alright,” Alec said, bracing himself. “No use standing here.”

He imagined several alarmed, curious looks scattered behind him, aimed at the man talking to himself. It was enough to make him grin a tad as he opened the door with barely a squeak. 

A wide white room greeted him. At one end, opposite the door, a ginger man sat behind a sign-in desk and flicked a pen back and forth over his clipboard. There were plants all around in colourful pots, and a single steel elevator door to the left. 

Alec dripped his way over to the desk. He already knew he was in the wrong place, because the Propsy App that he’d re-downloaded had directed him to what was supposed to be a small studio rented by ‘M’ if the shut-down shop page was anything to be believed. Google had led Alec here, to a building that was anything but a small studio. But Magnus was at work, Izzy was studying, and he had nothing else to do.

“Can I help you, sir?” The ginger man perked up as Alec waved one sodden sleeve at him. 

“Yeah, I’m looking for an old studio, the page said,” Alec said, feeling stupid and determined not to show it. “But I get the feeling it’s not here anymore. I’m just wondering if there’s a way to find out where…”

Alec trailed off. Fuck, what was he _doing?_ Attempting to track down a stranger who had once added a print to Alec’s order, for no real reason? There was no way a man called ‘M’ would have left a forwarding address to a block of offices. Alec didn't even know what he’d say if he managed to find ‘M.’

“Never mind,” Alec said, stepping back suddenly. 

The elevator opened when Alec turned on his heel, before the man could say much or rearrange his crestfallen face into something less pleading and desperate. Alec made for the door he’d just slouched through and was stopped dead by a familiar laugh.

Magnus strode out of the elevator, two people at his heels. All of them wore sharp suits, although Magnus’s was a deep velvet purple, and it was unbuttoned perhaps more than was acceptable. Not that Alec was complaining. 

He stepped back, and almost collided with a potted plant. The leaves crunched as he smashed them with his wet back, and the sound of his feet sliding along the floor drew Magnus’s attention. 

“Alec,” Magnus said, coming to an abrupt stop. The two people beside him stopped too, their clipboards hovering mid-air as they glanced between the two of them. 

“This is where you work?” Alec blurted out. 

Magnus eyed Alec, and then bent to say something quietly to his colleagues. A minute later, Alec was being bundled into the elevator, a warm hand on his elbow. When the doors shut, Magnus immediately turned to face Alec, brows furrowed. 

“Are you alright? You’re soaked.”

“Yeah, it’s raining.” Alec ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the wet strands. “I didn't know you worked here.”

“I own the building,” Magnus said, frowning lightly. “It’s where we take care of prep, for the magazine.”

The elevator rumbled smoothly upwards, catching Alec off guard. 

“If you didn't know I worked here, then why were you in the entrance?”

Alec grimaced. He didn't have an answer that wasn’t insane or, at the very least, a bit strange and confusing. 

He settled for, “I must have put the wrong address into my phone.”

The elevator stopped on the second floor, and when the doors slid open, Magnus stuck his head forward and gave a cheery grin at the nearest person. 

“Apologies, but there’s been a small accident.”

He drew back again and Alec tried not to grin at the gaping, spluttering person. The door slid shut, and Magnus waited a few seconds before pressing the red emergency button. The elevator ground to a halt. 

“Magnus, what—”

“Something’s wrong, and I’m worried,” Magnus said succinctly, turning to face Alec and ignoring the trill of the alarm all around them. “We seem to have important conversations and moments in elevators all the time, don't we? Why break a habit?”

His hand slid up Alec’s shirtsleeve, the damp fabric clinging to his soft palms and catching. Alec shuffled closer, leaning into the warmth. 

“Alexander,” Magnus prompted softly, concerned. “Tell me why you appeared in my office like a wet weekend?”

Alec chuckled, but the sound came out all wrong. “I really didn't know it was your office. I was looking for this old studio, but I think maybe this was built after the shop shut down.”

Magnus continued to stare at him, obviously confused. So Alec explained, between sighs at his own stupidity, about the notecard with a nice message on it, and the whims that kept catching him off guard lately, and the fact that he wanted to find whoever had written it.

“I don't even know what I wanted to say,” Alec said, shrugging. “Everything’s been shit lately - well, not everything, I didn't mean you. You’re the only good bit. You and Izzy. I’ve always looked at the notecard when things have gone to shit, and I know that’s stupid, but I guess I just wanted to say thank you. For keeping me here.”

Magnus went very still. 

“Magnus,” Alec said wryly. “I know you’ve noticed. I’m not—” He threw his head back with an exasperated sigh. “I’m not the healthiest. We don't talk about that, in my family.”

“A lot of people don't talk about that,” Magnus murmured. “They should. But you’re not alone, Alexander.” His eyes were so bright, so fierce, and if it weren’t for the alarm all around them, it might have been a moment of softness. 

A voice came through the speaker in the corner of the elevator. _“Mr Bane, is everything alright? Is there something wrong with the elevator?”_

“No, Ella, I’ll only be a moment,” Magnus said. He leaned over and unhooked the emergency button. The alarm cut off abruptly. The elevator stepped smoothly into motion, sliding upwards with barely a whisper of sound. Alec leaned into Magnus, the weight of the notecard suddenly less in his pocket than it had been since he first picked it up. 

“Is it stupid?” Alec asked, when they closed the door of Magnus’s office ten minutes later. There had been knowing looks and a few smirks when they strolled out of the elevator, but Magnus had a way of clearing a room with a few light, airy comments that cut deep. 

“The fact that I can’t keep alcohol in my own office? Very.” Magnus swept around his desk and examined the small fridge at the back of the room. “I have water, a soda, and a juicebox that Madzie claims is better than peanut butter cookies.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “I think I’m wet enough.”

Magnus appeared to take pause. He turned, a glint in his eye, and swept his eyes up and down Alec’s soggy form. “There are many, many things I could say in response to that.”

Alec raised an eyebrow.

“But I won’t.”

“Thank you.” He crossed his arms and sat in Magnus’s chair, the leather squeaking beneath him. There were a few plants, and a few paintings, but the office itself was sparsely decorated. It didn't really _feel_ like Magnus. 

“And to answer your question, I’m sure it’s not stupid. Things rarely are.”

“This,” Alec said, pulling the notecard out of his pocket. He waved it around a bit before putting it face down on the desk. “Is this stupid? I don't know the person, and it’s not even a deep, heartfelt message or anything. It’s just a note on the back of a print. I think it’s just because they didn't have to send it, and I was in a bad place, and I made it mean much more than it should.”

Magnus drew out two waters despite Alec’s protest and put them on the desk. Alec watched as he moved carefully around the desk, until he stood with his hip near Alec’s shoulder. Even the closeness was enough to settle him. But then he carded one hand through his hair, setting Alec’s heart alight. One ring caught a bit, and Magnus gently eased it free. 

“People latch onto whatever keeps them going, and there’s nothing stupid about that. If it keeps you here, then that’s what’s important.”

Alec hummed, leaning into the touch. “When did you get smart?”

“I’ve always been smart, Alexander. You’re just very stubborn and don't listen to my wisdom enough.” He tugged gently on Alec’s ear. Alec batted his hand away and stood, snagging the water from the table. 

“So this is your office?” He did a slow spin, aware that Magnus was watching him with amusement. “It’s not what I thought it’d be.”

Magnus grinned when Alec finished spinning. “You must be the only person allowed to be here who didn't actually mean to be here. Most people know exactly what this place is, and don't make it any further than the welcome mat. You just stumbled in.”

Alec unscrewed the cap of his bottle and took a swig. “I probably took you away from your job.”

“I’m not exactly eager to leave your side.”

“Don't trust me in your office?” Alec teased, spreading his hands slightly. “You’re definitely the type to have skeletons in your closet. Or a big safe full of secrets behind a painting.”

He jerked his head at the slim, inked painting on the far wall, and then felt his heart grow still. Magnus seemed unaware of the change, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the desk. 

“The only thing I have in my closet is a collection of incredibly stylish, designer outfits.”

The painting wasn’t all that out of place in Magnus’s office. It was plain, quite pretty, done in stark black and white strokes of ink. It fit neatly in with the decor, the sparseness of it all, the clear, quiet arrangement of furniture. 

But it neatly dislodged everything Alec thought he knew in the same breath. 

“Alexander?” Magnus’s face swam into view, his hand brushing Alec’s. Alec felt rings, and thought of fridge magnets, and the way he had always hidden his notecard from view when Magnus was around. Even a moment ago, when he’s been waving it around, Magnus hadn’t actually seen what was on it. 

“You keep disappearing on me today,” Magnus said, squeezing his fingers. 

“I’m fine,” Alec said roughly. “I just need to know something.”

He pushed Magnus back gently, stepping forward until Magnus bumped into the desk and stayed there. Alec reached around him, breathing in the scent of jasmine soap that settled his nerves, and slid the notecard off the desk. He held it up to face Magnus.

“Is this yours?”

Magnus squinted briefly, and then his eyes widened. He flicked his gaze up to Alec, and then back at the print, before landing on Alec again, his expression soft. 

“That’s mine. We all start somewhere, don't we?” Magnus’s mouth twisted wryly, and he reached up to peer closer at the print, holding it steady. “I wasn’t very good at that point, but I thought I’d put some things up for sale anyway. Catarina was the one to convince me to take some classes, to work on what I loved. I never sold much, and I almost forgot about the store, really.”

“I think you’re good,” Alec said. He wasn’t just talking about the art; from here, he could see the words scrawled on the back, calling him lovely, wishing him a good day. There was goodness there. He flipped the print so he could see it, the familiar telephone wires and apartment windows, the brushstrokes made by the man in front of him. By the hands he loved. 

Magnus wasn’t one for being outwardly flustered either, but his face lit up with a soft, wondering sort of look. He looked almost _grateful_ when he made eye-contact with Alec, and Alec didn't know what to do with that. 

“Well, I’m not going to judge your taste lest you rethink our date later, but you may want to consider an eye-test, sweetheart.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “There is literally one of your paintings hanging on your office wall.”

“That would be Catarina.” Magnus affected an extremely disgruntled look, gazing at the painting in question. “She effectively emotionally blackmailed me. Mentioned something about being a role model for Madzie. As if a magazine and a fashion line isn’t enough. She may also have said a few things about not loving the things I create enough. Not believing I’m good enough.”

Alec didn't like the way Magnus’s tone had mellowed into a casual, lyrical tone, as though his self-doubt was something irrelevant, trifling. He wondered if it was too much, to tell Magnus that a few lines proving how good Magnus was had kept Alec from hurting too much inside. Sure, he had done most of the heavy-lifting on his own. He had kept himself here, and then he had made it easier by tethering himself to living with trivial things to look forward to: the apples in the morning, the letters in the mail, messages on the fridge in magnetic colours, the way running felt like music, and a notecard that embodied a random act of kindness. 

He thought maybe it was too much. He had already hinted at it. Maybe, when they both weren’t feeling shaky in their own skin, they could sit at Alec’s kitchen table, eat rubbery meatballs, and talk about all the ways Magnus was good, and Alec’s intentions to stay and enjoy those ways. 

“I agree with Catarina,” Alec said, instead of that, “and not just because she’s paying my rent for a bit.”

Magnus turned so fast that his neck creaked. Alec laughed lightly, prodding teasing fingers at the space just above his collarbone. 

“Careful,” Alec said. “You’ll strain something.”

“Oh, I definitely will, if you don't explain yourself, Lightwood,” Magnus said faux-pleasantly. “Care to explain?”

Magnus had been offering to help, asking Alec to let him help, for months now. Alec still didn't think he had enough to give in return, but he was trying not to let himself sink back into the grubby darkness that told him he wasn’t good enough to be around people like Magnus. The achey, cold spots in him that threw out how he leeched off his friends, how he was a failure if he didn't do things by himself. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, said the cold spots. He should be able to take care of himself. 

And he could. But everyone needed a little help, now and again, even if it hurt to ask for it.

“I asked Catarina for some help with the rent while I look for a job,” Alec said, lacing their fingers together. “I was thinking I might keep the theme going and ask if you’ve got any vacancies here. I hear you’ve had elevator problems, and I’m good with a spanner.”

“I’ll bet.”

Alec shot him a warning look that bordered on fond. “I’m asking for help, Magnus.”

“And I’m thoroughly enjoying the moment,” Magnus told him, grinning shamelessly as he leaned in for a kiss. “I’m sure we can find something. Thank you, Alexander.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta, lovely people!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn't _want_ to leave. I didn't write that book on purpose, just so I could have my own parents get _rid of me._ ” Alec’s voice stayed firm and steady. “I didn't leave you and Izzy and Max because I wanted to. I left because there wasn’t another choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title was supposed to be an ugly duckling sort of reference. I never really liked that story - I don't like the message that you have to be outwardly beautiful to be worthy of love, from others or yourself. I know that story addresses other important things too, but I planned on making references here to how Alec only had to change the parts of him that hurt himself or others, and he could do that with self-care and genuine growth etc, but it became a story about survival, weathering bad days, and a whole host of other things instead. So now the title only sort of makes sense, but I'm keeping it anyway. 
> 
> I also tried to toe the line between saving yourself and having someone save you. Because we put a lot of emphasis on picking yourself up, having a strong sense of self, saving yourself and not banking on romantic love or a partner to save you or be your therapist etc. And I agree with all of that. But I also think this can be a little bit of a wobbly area, because we should always, always ask for help if we need it too. And people can make you feel better, and help you to help yourself. And live for whatever the fuck keeps you alive, at the end of the day, was the main message here. Because if you're alive, you can get the help you need. 
> 
> WARNINGS: Uh huh, this is the somewhat heavy discussions of past suicidal thoughts that I mentioned recently. Please be careful and aware of your mental state, but know that I treat this with as much experience and respect as I can. But otherwise, happy happy endings.

The place where Isabelle worked was ‘more like a lounge than a coffee shop,’ in her words, but there was a big coffee cup sign out front and it smelled warmly bitter even on the curb, so Alec concluded that she was a liar, and went inside.

Magnus was already there, chatting to a woman behind the counter, hands trailing through the air like gentle fish in a pond. Alec traced their movements fondly. Then he traced all of Magnus, sketching his outline with an increasingly heated gaze, and revelled in Magnus’s attention when he finally looked up, a small knowing smirk coming to life. 

“Fancy finding you here,” Magnus said, when he stepped close, comfortably filling the space Magnus left for him. “I was just chatting to Maia, Izzy’s friend.”

Maia brushed off her apron, gifting Alec with a bright smile. She looked like the teasing, fun sort; the sort of person Alec seemed to gravitate towards despite not being either of those things, he suddenly realised. 

“So you’re Izzy’s famous older brother?”

“Whatever you’ve heard,” Alec warned her, “she’s probably exaggerated.”

“She only said nice things.”

“She definitely exaggerated then,” Magnus said, his small smirk growing in size. Maia laughed when they exchanged teasing looks. She then asked Magnus about something fashion-related, and try as he might, Alec could never quite follow those conversations as well as he'd like. He was fine with the process of making the magazine, but the actual content? It was an entirely terrifying new world. 

He scanned the room instead, looking for a quiet place to sit and talk. The ‘lounge’ was comfortably crowded with both people and furniture. Slouchy leather couches lined a big square space that had been crammed full of tasseled cushions and footstools in various shades of green and teal. Copper lights dangled from the ceiling, and there was too much exposed brick for Alec to be comfortable standing there without a beret or a coffee. He got a coffee when Maia slid behind the register (even though it was partway through the evening and alcohol was flowing quietly) since that seemed like the more reasonable option of the two. He didn’t think he could pull off a beret even if one _was_ available for purchase.

That was the first thing he did. The second thing he did was buy Magnus a coffee too, and hand it to him with a soft, firm kiss on his mouth, since that seemed date-appropriate, and Alec wanted to. He was doing that more now, he noticed idly, as Magnus smiled beatifically at him. Letting himself have all those things he wanted. It came slowly and with enough trickiness to make him reconsider whether he was doing the right thing, but he still let himself have things. 

The third thing he did was rather more obscure than the first two things; squinting up at the little raised platform near the couches that supposedly counted as a stage, he contemplated fleeing the premises. 

“Something wrong?” Magnus stepped neatly out of the path of collision, nodding politely at two vaguely awed teenagers, and rested his hand on Alec’s arm. “Only you look like you’re about to commit some kind of crime, and while that might be hot, depending on the crime and state of undress, I don't think your sister would approve.”

Alec muttered, “Is that the delivery boy that had a crush on you?” 

Magnus perked up a little, looking almost smug. Alec chose to believe it was the coffee. Coffee was good for perking people up. 

“You know, I think it is. Simone, wasn’t it?” 

“Why would I get undressed to commit a crime?” Alec asked, aware that his audience was no longer listening, but equally as aware of the conversation he hadn't quite taken in. Magnus didn't respond. Alec grumbled, and let Magnus weave the way through round tables until they both stopped at the couch furthest from Simone, but still inside the stage-area. It was easy to sink into, and even easier when Magnus sat closer than usual and put a hand on his thigh. The touch was like a spark on his skin, even through denim, and carried a weight that settled something inside him. Like an anchor at the bottom of the ocean, finding root in the seabed. 

But Alec still found himself glancing around to see if anyone had spotted them, cautious at first, before relaxing. 

“I’m surprised you noticed him,” Magnus said, stroking his thumb absently over the seam of Alec’s jeans. “You didn't seem all that enamoured with him when he brought our food.”

“Yeah, well, call it a survival instinct—shit, _no.”_ Alec stared blankly at Simone as he struggled with a large case, horror filling him from head to toe. “Magnus, he has a guitar. He might sing. Izzy did this on purpose.”

Magnus gave a little tittering laugh at Alec’s pain, the kind of laugh he often pretended not to have anything to do with. The kind of laugh that Alec loved to hear. He was too busy scouting out emergency exits to fully appreciate it.

“You’re so _solemn_ when you’re feeling threatened, Alexander.”

Alec didn't have time for more than a quick glare in his direction before Izzy looped her arms around him from behind and squealed in his ear. 

“You’re here!” Izzy’s hair tickled his cheek, perfume instantly invading each nostril. He smiled anyway when she started chattering away. “I didn't think you’d set foot in this place without earplugs. Or a bow and arrow.”

“What makes you think I didn't bring anything?” He hadn’t, but he was beginning to regret it. He was usually more prepared than this. 

“He hasn't, but I'll search him thoroughly in a moment, just to be sure.” 

Alec threw Magnus a droll look, but got nothing besides his usual charming grin in response. 

"Isabelle, darling. You look beautiful as always.” Magnus blew her a kiss, and she laughed in delight, pretending to catch it.

“Liar,” she said fondly. “I look like I’m in the middle of a late shift after hundreds of hours of studying, because I am. God, being an adult sucks. Did you dress Alec? He looks less angry than usual.”

Magnus smirked softly at Alec, inviting his ears to heat up. “I think that’s just my presence.”

Alec drank deeply from his mug. 

“You said there was live music, and there’s a lot of people here, so I’m assuming it’s not as bad as Alec’s expecting it to be,” Magnus continued. Izzy came round the couch and prodded Alec in the shoulder, earning a grunt. 

“It’s not, he’s just grumpy. Lewis!”

Lewis turned out to be Simon, who just so happened to be the same Simone that had fumbled Alec’s order. He whipped around at Izzy’s summons and jogged towards them like an over-eager puppy, a bright grin in place. His hair was swept to the side and Alec didn't need to follow fashion to know that his shirt was an eyesore, but he looked more at ease here than he did with a delivery bag in hand. 

Simon’s eyes landed on Alec, and then over to Magnus, where they proceeded to bug out of his head.

“Magnus! It’s you! Or Mister Bane, sorry. Which one do you prefer?”

Magnus looked charmed, which didn't help Alec’s mood. The renewed stroke of his thumb against Alec’s thigh did help a little, though. He knew he didn't have anything to worry about, but jealousy was an easy monster to prod awake.

“Just Magnus is fine. You’re playing tonight?”

Simon nodded rather frantically, seemingly speechless. Izzy looked between them all for a minute, clearly confused, and then narrowed her eyes at Alec, the weak target, in search of answers. 

“You already know each other?”

Alec shrugged. “Barely. We ordered bad food from the place where he works once.”

“Ah,” Izzy said, tucking her arm through Simon’s and bumping their shoulders together. “So you’ve had the misfortune of meeting my brother already?”

“Well yeah,” Simon said, crinkling his nose at her. “We live together, you know that Izzy.”

Alec paused, coffee just a few blissful inches from his mouth, and said, “What?”

The ensuing pause simply grew more confused. 

Magnus made an amused little sound and leaned closer to Alec. “You didn't tell me that, Alexander. No wonder I haven’t made it to your bedroom, if you’ve got other men tucked away in your closet.”

Simon started to splutter. Alec wondered briefly if he could get away with putting Magnus in his pocket, setting fire to the place and escaping in the chaos, or if Izzy would be too mad. 

Izzy bumped Simon again, rolling her eyes. “I didn't mean Jace, I meant Alec.” She pointed, rather unnecessarily if you asked him, at Alec’s unimpressed stare, and then patted Simon on the arm when he did nothing but gape.

“You’re Izzy and Jace’s brother?” Simon made a victorious noise, snapping his fingers. “That’s where I know you from! Jace has that picture of you on the wall, next to the one of Max with the Christmas hat.” He made another sound, more aggrieved this time. “Do you know how much that’s been bugging me? Because the answer is a lot. It’s been bugging me a lot. I knew I'd seen you somewhere before.”

“Wait, you _live_ with Jace?”

Alec sat up straight in his seat, lowering his coffee. The last he knew, Jace was living at home, drinking juice out of the carton, twirling his unused drumsticks and making Max laugh with his inane jokes. 

But then again, he hadn’t really spoken to Jace since he left. He’d tried at first, sending texts and making a few calls, but he didn't need to see Jace to know he was pissed off, and that might not have stopped Alec from interfering before, but things were different now. It wasn’t like he could just storm home and demand that Jace answer his phone, or talk to him, or do _something_ that wasn’t sulking. Apparently there wouldn’t have been much point in that anyway. Jace wasn’t there anymore. 

Izzy frowned at Alec, and then swatted him gently when realisation apparently struck. “You still haven’t called him?”

Someone called Izzy’s name from the counter, and she threw up a hand in a wave. Her cheeks looked pinker, all of a sudden, and she tucked some of her hair behind her ear. 

“That’s Maia. I have to go, but stay for Simon’s songs, and I’ll come and find you when I’m on break. He’s really not that bad!”

“Thanks,” Simon called, as she darted away. “Stunning feedback, and actually better than what you usually say, so really, thanks!”

There was a clatter and a cacophony of guitar strings as Simon’s precariously-balanced instrument tipped sideways into the microphone. Simon swore and shot across the room, bumping into several people and diving to save his guitar. When he was out of earshot, Alec expelled a sigh that felt shaky and sounded like it might break. 

“Are you alright, love?” Magnus had been relatively quiet for the last part of that conversation. Now, he shifted across the couch and eyed him curiously, his hand slipping up to curve around Alec’s waist. The warmth in his gaze swept over Alec like an embrace. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Alec swallowed, then shook himself. “I don't know if I told you much about Jace, but he was out the night I had to leave, so I… I didn’t get to explain, or say where I was going.”

Magnus’s expression darkened the way it always did these days, whenever Alec brought up being kicked out of his home. He brought it up more and more lately, never casually, but with a gradual ease to the eternal lump in his throat whenever he pushed the words out. He’d even told Catarina - that had been an experience. Alec had never seen someone deal with their anger by shovelling food into his mouth before, but he couldn't say he hated it. Catarina made excellent curry, and she always bought the good garlic Naan bread. 

“We were really close up until I left,” Alec said, sinking more into the couch, aware of the faint strum of guitar strings as Simon got ready to play. “Afterwards, I tried to get hold of him to explain what happened, since I knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t, but he never answered the phone. I couldn’t exactly go back home. I didn't stop trying, but I called less and less. I guess—I thought I’d give him space, and that he’d tell me if something like this happened. If he moved.”

“You miss him,” Magnus said softly. 

Alec swallowed again, frowning as he nodded. Because yes, he did miss Jace, and he hated the rift between them that seemed to keep growing, but he was also pissed, and he didn't know what to do with that. In some ways, being angry with Jace was familiar. But being angry with him over something so serious, something that mattered so much to Alec, something he couldn’t brush under a rug and pretend wasn’t a problem for Jace’s sake… well, that was less familiar. 

Magnus hummed, rubbing a soothing hand over his back, but didn't offer any words. Alec was grateful, and the vastness of his gratitude took him by surprise, swallowing him up. He didn't know how he’d stumbled across someone as _good_ as Magnus. Good to the bone, no matter what other qualities he dressed his skeleton in.

Sometimes, it was nice just to talk, just to have someone that wanted to listen. He’d done the same for Magnus countless times, when work was stressful or Madzie was sick or Magnus was having an off day, plagued with thoughts of failure or insecurity. Alec had been surprised, the first time Magnus revealed exactly how often he expected his work to fail, exactly how often he thought of himself as not good enough. It was easier to predict when those times were on the way, having known Magnus for a while now. Easier to see the bruised circles not quite powdered over, the tired energy radiating from his tense shoulders, and easier to combat it with dinner at Catarina’s, pie and soup and ice cream, tea and movies with Madzie. 

Magnus was good at knowing what Alec needed, and Alec hoped he was getting better at telling what Magnus needed. It didn't help that they could both be closed off sometimes, but they were working on it, and it thrilled Alec to know that they might know each other better than anyone else in the world one day. 

“Shit, sorry.” Alec sat up a little straighter, almost dislodging Magnus’s hand, after several minutes of quiet. “This was supposed to be a date, not me moping.”

“I prefer the term brooding,” Magnus said thoughtfully. “It makes you seem like you have a dark and tragic secret, or a difficult quest ahead of you. I can picture you on a cliff, staring out at a stormy sea. Tell me, how do you feel about hooded cloaks?”

“Not really my style.”

“I disagree. A bodice, then?” 

“Stop reading free kindle erotica,” Alec complained, but he said it so fondly that it wasn’t a complaint at all.

***

Alec’s fridge magnets had never acted out in such a way before. The letters jumbled together in his mind, an array of irritatingly confusing colours, and they refused to stop until they were standing on the sidewalk, outside the copper-lit ‘lounge.’

“Magnus,” Alec said, pausing in frustration when the words just wouldn’t come. 

“You know, I had a nice time. Not that I expected otherwise, but there was always a chance that I’d find out something awful about you.” Magnus clasped his hand firmly, a teasing smile in place. “Like you secretly despised coffee, or found me hideously unbearable, or you wanted to dash off at the end of our date to talk to your reclusive brother.”

Alec deflated, tension rushing out of him as he glared playfully at Magnus. “I don't want to run off, I just think—”

Magnus kissed him. 

And God, they had kissed before, but not like this. It was like he could feel every inch of Magnus’s understanding, his frustration and anticipation, and the fierce attraction he felt _poured_ into him. Heat crashed through him in a rising wave as they stumbled back against the brick wall, and then Magnus was tearing himself away before Alec could do more than stutter and open his mouth and groan into the kiss, trying to chase the taste of Magnus. 

“That,” Magnus said, in a voice of deep, low satisfaction, “is how much I wish you were coming home with me tonight.”

Alec swallowed thickly. _Screw Jace,_ the magnets briefly insisted. Alec shook his head to rearrange the letters. When they had almost kissed outside of the Pandemonium, Alec had been afraid that Magnus wouldn't be there the next morning, not like this. But things were different now. Walking away was not giving this up, or prioritising his family - it was understanding, pure and simple, between them, that this was something that would last. 

Magnus wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was Alec. They had all the time in the world to explore this. That didn't mean that Alec didn't desperately want to follow Magnus home and climb into bed with him. But as much as he pretended otherwise, Alec hadn’t actually had much experience with any of this—he thought he had the affection and love part down okay, and if the previous moment was anything to go by, first dates weren’t as hard as he thought they’d be. 

But the heat in his body and the shudder that rippled through him when Magnus spoke directly in his ear, velvet-soft and full of want? That was new. New and unexplored, and it deserved every inch of his attention.

“You should probably go and find Simon, before I change my mind and steal you away,” Magnus murmured, leaning up to kiss him again, not as urgent, but just as wanting. “I imagine you’d rather talk to Jace yourself than have Simon blurt something out. He seems like the type to ramble.”

Alec thunked his head back against the wall and said, “I don't like that you said that fondly.”

“He was a very good musician, you have to admit.”

Magnus laughed when Alec shoved him gently away, only to pull him back in for another kiss. They kept kissing until Magnus’s car arrived, and then Alec opened and shut the door for him, like a goddamn _gentleman,_ ignoring Magnus’s snickers. 

“Good first date?” Alec asked, leaning down to peer into the window just before the car drove off. 

Magnus’s smile was soft and glowing, still bathed in copper light. “Best first date, in fact. The first of many, I hope.”

Alec had to kiss him again, even when Elias leaned so hard on the horn that it trailed off into a pathetic wheeze.

***

Simon jiggled his keys all the way up the stairs to his apartment, blathering about this and that. It was hard to pay attention, but equally as hard to ignore him. The clang of metal and a thousand nerd-shaped keyrings anchored Alec to a moment that he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anchored to. He thought it might be easier if he was a little distant from this, if he didn’t care about the outcome. Sadly, wanting to be distant had never worked before, not for Alec. He clung too tightly to things. He gripped them and held them and put them okay where nobody else could see them, but he never let them go, not really.

Even if it wasn’t obvious to an outsider, the truth was all over him; Alec was not a person to give up, and he was not someone who could do casual, or distance. 

It had never worked before, and it wasn’t about to start working now. 

Alec stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and followed on steady footsteps, unsure whether he should have embarked on any trip involving Simon Lewis without the escape offered by earphones. He wasn’t a musical person, sure, but there were audiobooks to listen to, podcasts to get lost in, and even the thumping bass of club music would have been a welcome relief right about now. 

He had managed to grab Simon by the elbow as he was lovingly packing his guitar into the back of the ugliest van Alec had ever seen. He had then ducked a clumsy swing, suffered an injury to the ear caused by Simon’s panicked, frantic shout, and backed up with a scowl until Simon stopped flailing. 

“Dude,” Simon had said, blinking at him in shock. “Don't creep up on a guy in a dark car park! You could have been a murderer, or a kidnapper or something.”

“It’s like, six o’clock,” Alec had said, frowning at the mostly purple sky. “And you’re the one with the van. Only kidnappers and electricians drive a van, Símone.”

It had lead, miraculously, to Simon giving Alec a lift to his apartment block. Alec had endured precisely twenty-three minutes of agonising, socially awkward silence, peppered with the odd Dad Joke and seasoned with a few cultural references that he just flat out didn't understand. And now he was here, about to see his brother, who was probably more likely to throw something than actually want to talk. 

“So, he’s probably in the kitchen bothering my junk food,” Simon said, pausing outside a door with a long scratch down the side and a rusted number dangling from the middle. He jiggled his keys nervously.

“Bothering?” 

“Yeah, he goes in and rifles through it, gets all handsy. Harasses it all, if you ask me. He doesn’t like pop-tarts, and he gets antsy if I don't eat a vegetable for a while.” Simon twisted his hand through the air nonsensically. “I mean, I’m a vegetarian, so I like vegetables, you know, but I also like pop-tarts and soda.”

Alec raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rambling to screech to a halt. Simon coughed when Alec didn’t speak. He shoved the key into the lock. 

“Yeah, I just mean that he’ll be in the kitchen, and I have work in a few hours so I have to be here to get ready, you know, but I’ll play a game on the computer or something and I won’t listen at all. Even though Izzy bribed me to eavesdrop if you came asking for help.” 

The door opened before Alec could even think about addressing that. 

“Simon,” Jace barked from further in, before the door was even halfway open. They both stepped inside, and Alec gently kicked the door shut with the back of his foot. He took in the rugs that looked hand-stitched and the star on the wall facing him, and the lamp that looked like it had seen better days but still filled the room with a nice yellow glow. Simon dropped his keys in a chipped marble bowl near the door, answering the second shout of his name with a somewhat wary, “Yeah?” 

“The hell did you do with the eggs?” 

Jace’s voice was getting closer as he presumably stalked down the hall from the kitchen. 

Simon’s expression took on a fearful tinge. Alec decided he didn’t want to know what had happened with the eggs. 

“Go,” Alec said, taking mercy on him, if only because he didn't want to bear witness to an egg-related argument. “If he sees me first then he won’t have time to be angry at you.” 

Simon shot pleading eyes at the front door, almost as if he was desperate for a large elephant-shaped emergency to smash through the apartment and claim most of the attention. Or perhaps just trample him. Then he shot an equally desperate look down the hall, where presumably his own bedroom was. 

“Okay, look, normally I’m not one for abandoning my friend-colleague-acquaintances, or whatever,” Simon said, scurrying away at top speed, “but I’ll make an exception, since this is about the eggs.”

“The hell did you do to them?” Alec muttered, and then shook his head as Jace stomped around the corner. “Never mind, I don't want to know. Go on, quick.”

Simon mouthed his gratitude before disappearing inside his bedroom and slamming the door shut. 

Jace jerked to a halt in front of Simon’s closed door, and then tipped his head back, scowling. 

“For fuck’s sake, Simon,” Jace muttered, and then swore violently when he spotted the Alec-shaped intruder standing at the end of the hallway. He went still. 

It was as if the air itself darkened, turning thick with venomous emotions. 

There was a time when seeing Alec would melt away whatever bad mood Jace was experiencing. At the very least, it would improve it. The same was true in reverse, but now, it appeared that particular power had run its course. 

“Having trouble?” Alec asked, raising an eyebrow. He put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, tempted to roll his eyes when Jace didn't move, face blank. 

After a minute of silence, Alec did roll his eyes, growing impatient. “Are we just going to stand here in the hallway all evening?” 

Jace grunted, finally breaking his statue impression neatly in two. “I guess you better come in.” 

With that stunningly welcoming invitation, Jace led the way down the hall. The kitchen was bright, the purple sky outside lit with the spring yellow of streetlamps. Jace had the oven on, something bubbling on the hob that smelled strongly like the creamy carbonara he used to make at home, when Max was demanding takeaway, or at least something that neither Izzy nor Alec had cooked.

“Hungry?” Jace asked. 

Alec allowed himself a moment to be surprised, then nodded. Jace nodded too. Alec grimaced as he shed his jacket, slinging it over the back of a chair while Jace poked their dinner with a wooden spoon. It was awkward. It shouldn’t have been awkward.

“Look, I’m not going to say no to food, but we both know I didn’t just stop by for your pasta.” 

“A shame,” Jace said, pulling down two bowls and turning off the heat. “Then I wouldn’t have to listen to you talk, and you could bask in my superior culinary skills.” 

Alec scowled at the back of his head. “Is that why you haven't answered the phone? Because you didn't want to listen to me talk?”

“Do you want bread with it?” Jace asked idly. On anyone else, Alec might have believed that casual front, but he didn't fall for it now. Not with Jace. He'd been able to read Jace from the minute he became part of the family, when he communicated only in shrugs, grunts, and sarcastic comments. 

“I'll do it,” Alec said, moving to grab the crusty baguettes warming in the oven. He hadn't seen them, but Jace always warmed them in the oven first, with just a drizzle of garlic butter. He pulled them out with the nearest oven glove, then checked the drawers until he found a knife. Jace didn't say anything, not even a hint in the right direction, and by the time Alec started slicing, the food was ready. 

They ate in silence for the first five minutes. Alec didn't want to enjoy it, but with each bite his simmering anger retreated, and he found a familiar warmth growing inside. He remembered dinners with Max and Izzy either side of him, Jace with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder, prancing about as he pretended to be Maryse, or some celebrity, or one of their parents’ uptight lawyer friends. Max would spray his food over the table in a fit of laughter, Izzy would join in with a flawless imitation, and Alec would criticise each performance in his best MasterChef voice. 

Home. The food tasted like home, the kind he'd learned to live without. He had a new one now, but that didn't mean he couldn't miss the old one so much that it hurt sometimes.

“Jace,” Alec said. He put down his fork. “Why didn't you answer the phone? I called and I kept calling, and when that didn't work I sent texts, but you didn't answer.” 

“You knew where I was,” Jace said, stabbing at his tagliatelle. “Since you obviously forgot though, I'll give you a little hint! I was _exactly_ where you left me.” 

Alec jerked like he'd been slapped. “Is that what you thought? That I just left? You seriously think I'd do that.”

Jace put down his fork too, shrugging. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to remember that I'm not an asshole,” Alec said sharply. “You were supposed to wonder why the hell I wasn't there, and then pick up the phone when I called. You were supposed to trust that I didn't just leave, that I wasn't that kind of person.”

“I read your book,” Jace said, seemingly out of nowhere. The words froze Alec in place. “It was good. I didn't know anything about it until a week later, of course, because you didn't tell me. You just swanned off to your great new life, right?” 

Alec felt the world settle and still. This was what it must feel like, Alec thought, to be at sea and see the storm coming. To see the waves churning on the horizon and see black clouds forming in the sky, and know that the boat you were in was too far gone to turn back. This was what it felt like, the minute before a thousand shoes and anvils dropped. Alec wondered if they were going to land on him or Jace, but he didn't have to wonder if he could take the weight. He knew that he could. 

“Do you honestly think that's what happened?” 

Jace either didn't see the storm or didn't care about the potential downpour. He didn't hear the deadly quiet in Alec’s voice. He leaned back in his chair, seemingly at peace, without a care in the world, and shrugged one shoulder this time, as though Alec wasn't worth the effort of two. 

“You tell me. You’re the one that pissed off without us.”

Alec drew a breath for the count of four, and then let it out, slowly, for the count of seven. His magnets were a jumbled mess, but he didn't need those words, carefully manufactured for when he wanted to feel safe; he needed his own. 

“If that's what you think, I'm going to leave.”

Jace was never very good at pretending not to care about things. He tried, and for most people the facade held, but Alec wasn’t most people. He was used to Jace’s shit. He was used to all the vulnerability underneath the blank mask, and it was easy enough for him to pick up the tense hurt shining through the slim cracks. But simply knowing it was there wasn’t enough this time. Jace had to listen, and he had to talk. 

“Go on then,” Jace said, reclining back with a lazy grin that fooled nobody in the room. “You've got enough practice by now that this should be a grand exit. I'm expecting perfection, you know.”

“I got kicked out,” Alec said. He didn't say it with much emotion at all, really. Just flat, empty words. “I wrote that book about two men falling in love, and I published it. I had a fucking agent and my name on the Bestseller list, so I knew I was good, but I haven't got one anymore. I haven't even got another full draft. Do you want to know why?” 

Jace remained silent, and very still. 

“Because that book, that tiny short story, told everyone that read it that the author was gay. That's not what it had to mean, but that's what it implied, at the very least. And maybe everyone who knew me already knew. But nobody had it shoved in their face before, so suddenly Mom and Dad had to deal with it, right? And they found a way. And I can't write anything anymore, no matter how much I might want to."

“So you left—" Jace started, but Alec cut him off. 

“I was kicked out,” Alec corrected him sharply, straightening his spine. He fixed Jace with a narrow-eyed glare, one that wouldn’t wilt when Jace returned it. 

Jace’s expression didn't change much, but Alec saw the steel enter his eyes. “What?” 

“I didn't _want_ to leave. I didn't write that book on purpose, just so I could have my own parents get _rid of me._ ” Alec’s voice stayed firm and steady. “I didn't leave you and Izzy and Max because I wanted to. I left because there wasn’t another choice.”

“Maryse wouldn’t—”

“She did,” Alec snapped, standing up swiftly. His chair scraped against the ground. “And it wasn't some grand new life, or whatever you convinced yourself I was off doing while you ignored my calls. They put me in a hotel and I spent a week there drinking and eating and wondering what the point was.” Alec swallowed thickly. “You know how many times I went up and down in that elevator? You know how many times I went all the way to the top and stood on the roof and wondered how long it would take to get back down that way? If I'd beat the elevator to the bottom floor?” 

Jace had gone ghostly white. And Alec didn't talk about this, not really, because the second he did he felt it all stir up again, and it shuddered through him like ice. The second he stopped talking he felt stupid and melodramatic, like he should never have thought the words, let alone said them where someone else could hear. 

“I didn't do it. Obviously.” Alec licked his dry lips, tasting salt, and shook on his feet. “I wanted to though. I kept going back up and then I kept coming back down in the elevator, and I'd finally decided not to do it, to shower and eat something that wasn't greasy and drink something that wasn't alcohol, and then on the way back down something great happened. Someone helped me.”

“Alec,” Jace said, very quietly. 

“I know you're not supposed to think that, are you?” Alec kept his eyes on the table. “You're not supposed to think about people saving you, or whatever. You're supposed to save yourself. Love doesn't heal you. But I think they got it wrong. Romance doesn't save you, and it doesn't fix you, because people aren't broken, and they _can_ save themselves. But they need a little help sometimes. I think I might have learned that there's no shame in that by now.”

Alec stopped speaking, the hot, whirling energy draining out of him suddenly. He swayed for a second and then sighed. There was a quiet click from down the hall, and Simon emerged with a slight frown on his face.

“I tried not to hear, promise,” Simon said, holding up one earphone demonstrably. “But right now I'm making you coffee, or my mom’s best lemon tea, and you can go chill on our couch, because you need it, alright dude?” 

Alec blinked at him, baffled. “What.” 

“Just go with it,” Jace said tightly. His knuckles were straining where they gripped his thigh and the back of the chair. “Simon likes to take care of people.” 

Alec wanted to protest, but he didn't really have the strength to argue. He took a bit of leftover bread and let himself by pushed firmly into the living room, which was basically just a couch and a big screen, plus a whole load of yellow blankets. He sat on one end and felt that shameful, stupid feeling creep in, the one that insisted he had said too much.

_It’s okay._

And it was, but God it was exhausting, feeling all these things. They never settled, either, shifting back and forth until he wasn't quite sure whether it was going to be a good day or a bad day or a terrible hour or a minute where he felt great. Existing was a rollercoaster. Feeling everything was the whole fucking theme park. 

Jace came in with two mugs and a beer tucked into his hoodie pocket. Alec heard the door shut down the hall as Simon retreated to his bedroom. Maybe, just maybe, Simon wasn't so bad after all.

Jace handed Alec the mug, and he wasn't one for tea, but it wasn't as sweet as he expected. 

“Simon makes good tea,” Jace said, sitting beside him. He put the beer on the side-table for later. “He's made me some before, this ginger one, for when it's a bad day. He said it sounded like you were having a bad day.”

Alec thought that was sweet, and entirely unlike Jace to accept. He sipped more tea, reluctant to be the one to start talking. 

“Maryse really kicked you out?” 

It was harder than he'd like to meeting Jace’s doubtful, pained expression. He wouldn’t have wanted to believe it either, in Jace’s shoes. It was telling, though, that he didn't ask about Robert. 

“She did, Jace,” Alec said, not softer exactly, but with more patience this time. “She might not have loved the idea, but she still went along with it. She didn't say anything against it.” 

“I don't get it,” Jace admitted. “It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that I don't get it. Why would she do that? I know she's not always been the best, but…”

“I’m sure she was hoping I’d change my mind and come back.” Alec let out an exhausted sigh; he'd thought about it extensively, and although he didn't quite believe it, it was the kindest response he could think of. “She must have thought it would all blow over, that I’d realise it was a mistake and come home. That whatever they did right then wouldn’t matter, because I’d be back home within a week and it would all be forgotten. Forgiven.” 

Alec didn't know if he could do either, but he didn't have to decide now, or for a long while. He drank his tea and passed a hand over his face while Jace thought carefully. Watching him made an ache bloom in Alec’s chest. 

Truthfully, it had always been hard to look at Jace and decide what to feel. Jealous, maybe, of how much people admired him, of how different he was to Alec? That had faded quickly after getting to know him. Angry that he didn't take things seriously until the last moment, when all was swiftly forgiven and forgotten, no matter how Alec still felt? That had yet to fade, and likely never would, but they were both changing. 

Glad to know him, definitely. Fond exasperation, endless love, and a healthy urge to throttle him sometimes. Wrong, without him in Alec’s life. 

Alec expected it was much the same for Jace, whenever he looked at Alec. They had very different views on the world, and probably always would, but the fact that they could always overlook them and meet in the middle had always been their saving grace. 

“Why didn’t you come home?” Jace asked quietly. He put his untouched mug down on the table and picked up the beer instead, but he didn't open it. He just played with the label. His mismatched eyes were so intense and full of something unnameable. 

Alec could have been pissed at the question, could have gotten mad at having to explain something so simple and vast at the same time. But although Jace wasted a lot of his words on being sarcastic, he only ever asked questions if he thought they were important. 

The tea tasted slightly bitter when he sipped it again. He didn't even have to think about the answer. He’d spent many nights in the hotel, lying on top of the sheets, welcoming the chill from the open window and staring straight at the ceiling, jaw tight. Cheeks shining with tears. It was what he thought about on the roof, when the options seemed to grow slimmer by the second. But thinking hadn't changed his answer. As much as he wanted to go home, he couldn’t make himself do it. 

“Because I knew that could only happen if I pretended I was straight, and I couldn’t do it, okay?” Alec frowned at one of the yellow blankets, noting the hand-stitched embroidery down the side. When Jace made an encouraging noise, Alec put his tea down and continued, “Look, our parents are only really concerned with image, how it looks on the outside. They could have passed it off as a vacation, or a study week or something, if anyone asked where I was for that week. They would have done it, let me come home. And believe me, I thought about it. I thought about coming home and apologising, but I couldn’t do it.” 

Jace waited, watching him, as the apartment breathed quietly, the two of them nestled safely in the middle. The eye of the storm. Or perhaps the edge, where the sea was already less rough. Perhaps he had weathered this particular patch of rain. 

“And I shouldn’t have had to do it,” Alec added. “I’d been pretending for so long because it was the only safe way to be. And yeah, if nobody had figured it out, I would have kept on pretending until I was in a better place, but once it was out, it was out. It was a _relief._ I didn't know it could feel like that, not having to hide or panic, or censor myself. When it was happening, it was terrifying, but after, when I thought about making myself go back in the closet, all I could feel was dread, because I was relieved that it was all out in the open now.”

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the headache that was growing, pressing insistently against the backs of his eyes. 

“I was depressed because of their reaction, not because I was out, or because of who I was. And I got to that bad place where I wondered what the point was because of what other people felt about me, and how they'd thrown me away. I got to that bad place because I was terrified of what was coming after, and because I knew I'd be leaving you and Izzy and Max, and home. All because I couldn't bring myself to lie to come back to it.” Alec took another deep breath. “And I shouldn't have had to.”

The living room fell into thoughtful silence. He’d stopped being angry a little while ago, and now he just felt burned out. It wasn’t something he was used to feeling—usually he slogged through the day regardless of what was at the end of it, or in the middle, or how fast his pulse was, or how foggy his brain felt. For the first time since he’d lost his job, it felt like a relief to sit, to talk, to be slow. To admit things; that he was burned out, that life sucked even when it was full of good things, that it was good even when it was full of shit. 

Jace was watching him. Alec could feel his gaze burning into the top of his head, but he kept it tipped low anyway. He realised that he hadn’t reached, absentmindedly _or_ purposefully, for his notecard, which sometimes sat in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe in another world, Alec would have been able to do it. He’d have been able to lock the secret of being gay up and throw away the key to stay safe, to stay at home. People did it all the time. People were forced to do it all the time. Alec wondered, sometimes, what his life would look like if he’d been forced to do the same thing. But he never liked the possibilities presented by his sticky, panicking mind. And that was the only way he knew that this was better. He'd been given a painful out, and he'd taken it. 

“Who told you that you shouldn’t have to pretend?” Jace asked.

Jace nudged him lightly with his foot. It might have been the first time Alec had seen him in three months, and it might have been tense to the bone and awkward when it shouldn't have been, but he still knew Jace. He knew Jace didn’t mean his question in a way that might hurt. 

That didn’t mean Alec _understood_ the question. “What?” 

“Because if it had been me that told you that, or Izzy, or if you tried to tell yourself that a few months ago, you wouldn’t have believed it.” Jace watched him like a hawk, a small, proud smile on his face. “So who told you that you shouldn’t have to pretend? Because they’re right, and I want to shake their hand.”

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “I already knew it. I just had some people around that reinforced it.” He added, quieter, “People that helped, once I let them.” 

That was how it had been, the whole time. Alec has already known he could make it, that he could stay alive, that he could wake up every morning and see the sun yawn. All the other things—the apples and the running and Magnus and the fridge magnets and the notecard—it all just reinforced it. Made it easier, smoothed the way for him. And if it some points, during some bad minutes, he was living just for those things, then that was okay. _It was okay._ Because at least he was living. 

“This is the bit where I’m supposed to apologise,” Jace said, ever aware of his own emotions even if he usually chose to ignore them. He tapped the table a bit before blowing out a breath, smiling wryly. “Simon would call me a jackass right about now.”

Alec discovered that one of his eyebrows could reach unfathomable new heights when prompted. “Are you and him…?”

Jace’s expression was enough of an answer, but he answered emphatically nonetheless. _“No._ God, no.” He eyed the direction of the closed bedroom door with fond amusement. “I think I’d rather cut off my dick.” 

Alec raised an eyebrow in question, half a grin in place. 

“He needed a place to stay,” Jace said, shrugging, “and I didn't want to live at home with how shit everything’s been lately, so when Izzy got that job and introduced us, I ended up here. He’s an idiot, but he’s alright.”

“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Alec murmured. 

Jace glared at him. “Yeah, yeah.”

Alec thought that was it, for a minute. But then Jace surprised him.

“Look, I don't get a lot of this stuff. I can’t understand what you had to go through because I haven’t lived it, so I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have said all the stuff I did. But none of what I said—it doesn't mean I didn't want everything to be okay for you. I don't care who you date as long as they’re good for you.”

He seemed to be struggling for more words, so Alec grinned at him, letting him off the hook as much as he was able to. It felt good, to hear the words, even though it hadn’t really been Jace that he worried about telling, when the moment came down to it. None of this had been about the fact that he was gay, not with Jace. 

“Thanks, Jace, but don't hurt yourself. I know apologies are your own personal torture.”

Jace scoffed, relaxing in his chair, and his expression smoothed out as he seemed to reach a conclusion. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m sorry anyway.”

Alec glanced at him, surprised again. 

“I'm sorry that I was a total, complete ass.” Jace frowned, looking upset with himself. “I don't know why I didn't answer the phone, but I should have.”

“Abandonment issues.” Alec shrugged like it didn't matter, like it didn't make his heart soar to hear Jace say it. “Daddy issues. Being blonde issues. Take your pick.” 

Jace flipped him off easily, but his expression was anything but. “I'm serious, Alec. I shouldn't have thought you'd leave your family, and I shouldn't have left you too. I'm sorry.” 

Alec got a grip on his sleeve and yanked him into a side-hug that gentler upon impact. Jace didn't grumble or complain, just leaned into it. 

“Thank you,” Alec said. “For listening, and realising you were being an ass.” He smirked. “I appreciate it, really. I know it's hard for you.” 

Jace elbowed him carefully, then shoved out of his half-embrace. “I missed you, and I hate that. We're talking about all the other stuff, by the way, about everything, but Izzy's gonna be there this time too.”

“Because she's more emotionally evolved than the two of us?”

“Fuck no.” Jace looked at him in horror. “Have you seen her around Maia? She's a fucking mess. You might want to talk to her about that.”

Alec wasn't the resident gay advisor, so he scowled a bit. But he kept it in mind. 

“She said you'd been shit to her as well.”

Jace grimaced. “Apparently I've been an ass to everyone. I'll work on that.” 

Alec bit his lip so he wouldn’t start laughing. 

Jace narrowed his eyes. “You’re about to be an ass too, aren't you? I just poured my heart out to you—a mutual heart-pouring, fuck, keep your hair on—and you’re about to be an ass.”

Alec had been about to say that Jace should start keeping a template for an apology with him, but Jace couldn't have known that. Before Jace’s genuine apology, Alec would have felt well within his rights to force him to go on a morning run through the park with him. The run, Jace would have enjoyed. The group of friendly ducks at the end of the left trail, however, wouldn’t have gone down quite as well. He had decided not to do it once the first sorry left Jace’s mouth. 

But since he was being called an ass without much cause, he decided to admit nothing of his plans, and invite Jace on a morning run anyway.

***

“Don't suppose you’re working from home tomorrow, are you?” Alec put the cardboard box near the door, filled with office-related things. This was his third night spent in Magnus’s home, and he was alone, having gotten the key earlier and dropped by with some stuff. Just a toothbrush, a change of clothes, and a few other bits, but it gave him some sense of satisfaction to have his belongings in Magnus’s space. It made him feel less like an intruder.

“Hmm.” Magnus sounded crisp and clear through the mobile, which Alec pressed between his ear and shoulder while he rifled through the box. “I suppose I could be persuaded. Why, did have you have something in mind?”

“A couple of things,” Alec said, grinning. He pulled out his toothbrush and a spare pair of rolled up socks, and headed for the bedroom. The rest would stay in the box to be put away later, but this was a start. 

“I'm intrigued. Tell me more, darling, I'm dreadfully bored. Running a company can be so tedious at times.”

Alec snorted as he pushed open the door. His ear buzzed as a notification came through, a text from either Izzy or Jace. It could wait for now.

“Yeah, you're not getting any sympathy from me.” Alec ignored Magnus’s little disappointed sound. “I got a letter through from your tedious company, something about a job opening in the accounting department?” 

Magnus made an intrigued sound. “Oh, what a surprise. Isn't that delightful?”

“Very.” Alec smirked. “I also have a video interview on Monday for a company not far from here, working in publishing.”

The silence down the phone was deafening. 

“I think it's a good idea,” Alec said apologetically. “I sent out a few CV’s with my bestseller list title on them, and they got back to me pretty quickly. It's the same company that my agent worked with. I don't think I want to write anything just yet, but I think I want to give somebody else the chance to do what I did, and publish stories that mean something.”

“Alexander, please don't mistake my silence for disappointment,” Magnus said softly, after another moment. “We’re going to be seeing each other all the time, if I have anything to say about it.” 

“And me,” Alec said just as softly, standing stock still in the middle of the bathroom. “Magnus. You mean the world to me, I just… I want this. This job, with the publishing house. It won't be very high up, but it's a start. Even if it doesn’t work out, it's a step in the right direction.”

“And I told you that I wasn't disappointed, or mad,” Magnus said, something in his voice that made Alec inhale shakily. “What I am is very, very proud, Alexander.”

Alec grinned at the shower curtain. It was a watery sort of grin, but that felt okay in the bathroom, talking to Magnus. Lots of things felt okay now, and he didn't need fridge magnets to believe them, although he still reached for the colourful reminder. 

“I'll be home soon,” Magnus said, perhaps sensing something of Alec’s emotional state. “I'll work from home tomorrow, we’ll laze in and then work on your interview technique. As well as a few other techniques, if you like.”

Alec’s laughter echoed off the tiles. He put the toothbrush he'd been holding in the cup beside Magnus’s red one. 

“Actually, I had something planned for the morning, if you don't mind getting up early.”

“For you, Alexander, I will reluctantly battle a thousand sunrises.” 

Alec snorted. He hung up after a sweet goodbye and checked the notification on his phone. It was from Jace, and it said: _Put the forms you gave me on Mom’s desk. She won't be home til next week so don't think about it okay? It'll be fine tho. See you at lounge for bad food later, Izzy’s treat._

Alec slid the notification away, the screen growing dark. It was a risk, reaching out to his mother, but appealing to her lawyer side was the best way to do it if he was going to. With the affair, neither of them were around much anymore, especially not at the same time. This was the best time to act. 

He'd gathered all the information about his job and the circumstances around being fired, and put it into a folder, and handed it to Jace. Jace had taken care of the rest. Even if nothing came of it, nobody could say that Alec hadn't tried. He wasn't sure if he could forgive his parents, let alone if he wanted to, but it was down to them now. Alec suspected it would only be Maryse that responded, if she did respond. He was okay with that. 

But he didn't have to think about that now. For now, he simply looked at the two toothbrushes standing side by side in the bathroom, leaning on each other, and smiled to himself.

***

Alec bent to tie his shoelaces, listening with a faint grin as Magnus yawned, shrugging on his coat. Magnus had been appreciate of Alec in his running gear for all of five seconds before he realised the implications. But after some bribery and a fair bit of wheedling, Magnus was in a similar get-up. Neither of them bothered to be discreet about their once-overs, and it was thrilling, but it also just felt normal, right.

Alec got to have this, he realised. He really, really got to have this. 

“I can't believe you're making me do this,” Magnus said, as they descended the stairs to the street outside. “I must be a masochist.”

Alec had written three hundred and thirty eight words last night, in between kisses and searing touches. They weren't on paper yet, and they weren't fit for public consumption, but he felt positively cheerful anyway. 

“I like you like this,” Alec said, smirking as the door swung shut behind them, leaving them in the bitter cold morning. “Easily led.”

“That sounded like a challenge,” Magnus said lightly. “Do you want me to take the lead more Alexander? I'm more than happy to.”

“Yeah. No.” Alec sighed, glancing skywards as Magnus chuckled. “Yeah, but not right now.” 

They ran through the streets. Magnus’s apartment was further from the park than Alec’s, and even further from the fruit stall, but they took it slow. He'd set the alarm earlier than usual, which explained the empty streets and the yawns they both released here and there. The fruit stall wasn't actually set up when they reached it, but the woman saw Alec coming. 

She scowled, and pushed a crate along with her foot. “Dig about in that, then.” 

Alec dug about in the crate. Magnus dug about in his pockets for spare change and paid for their apples, both of them ugly and weather-warped, dull on the outside.

“I saw you do this before,” Magnus said, taking his apple delicately. “I was always curious, but it didn't seem right to ask.” 

“You can always ask,” Alec said. “I might not always have an answer, but you can always ask.”

Magnus nodded. To Alec’s surprise, he didn't ask about the apples, merely pocketing his own for later. Alec copied him as they began to jog again, and wondered if Magnus didn't need to ask because he already knew. 

“I don't come to the park often,” Magnus admitted, as they reached the first crest of green. “Especially not when the rest of the world is asleep.”

“I run here every day,” Alec said. They ran for a little more, before stopping near the bench where Alec had sat in the rain, wondering if things were falling apart again. When they stopped, Magnus turned to look at him, eyes curious and half-mast. 

“Did you bring me here for a reason?” Magnus reached over and tangled their hands together loosely. “Not that I mind a morning spent with you. But it feels like you had something to say.”

“I had something to show you.”

Even Alec hadn't been quite aware of what he was going to show Magnus until the sun broke over the first hill, spilling light on the ground. The distant call of birds, and the soft quack of ducks filled the air, as did their quiet breathing. Alec held Magnus’s hand and watched the sun rise. 

“It kept me alive,” Alec said, catching Magnus’s attention. “I know it's just a sunrise. I know it's stupid and cheesy. But I would run here in the morning and think that if I could make it through another day, another night, there would be another one of these sunrises waiting for me the next morning. And it was enough.”

“It's not stupid,” Magnus said, squeezing his hand. “When we find things worth living for, we cling to hold on very tightly. They take on new meaning. I've told you this before, but I'll tell you again if you need to hear it.”

“Actually,” Alec said, “I think I believe you. But I wanted to show you because I wanted you to know what I don't need as much.” At Magnus’s quizzical sound, Alec shot him a small smile. “I think I'll be spending a few more mornings in bed, that's all.”

Not all of them. But he hoped Magnus knew what he meant. If the kiss he got was anything to go by, Magnus did. Alec held on tightly, but not as tightly as Magnus, who gripped him and kissed him in the golden glow of morning.

Alec remembered thinking that he wanted all the five o’clock kisses for as many Wednesdays as they had left. He remembered thinking it, and it hadn’t changed. He doubted that it ever would, but if it did, he thought he could weather it. And until that day came, if it did come, Alec was going to spend those Wednesdays living - whether that meant sharing kisses with the man he loved, teasing his siblings and friends, or eating ugly fruit because it settled something inside of him - rather than looking for reasons to live. 

Alec's list of reasons to live was long enough by now, and for the first time, his own name was at the very top of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with this story. It is literally two am as I upload this and I am cream crackered. I hope it makes sense, I hope it's not disappointing, it really took a lot out of me though so please only say something if it's not criticising. If I have missed a trigger/warning/done something terrible awful, please message me or leave a comment, I do not bite and I want to keep my stories as safe as possible. Thank you for your loveliness!! <3


End file.
